Draco's Doll
by secretdiary
Summary: PostHBP DM&HG MATURE. Find out what's become of Draco after failing to fulfill his task and how he ends up the captor of the girl he could never have.
1. Chapter 1

Author's note: First fic in a long time. I'm a little rusty. It won't be nearly as long as my other stories, but probably just as smutty. Please review and let me know what you think.

… … …

Her eyes were flooded with longing. Her lips practically puckered, they were so desperate. She massaged at her exposed neck, rubbing the slick shiny substance that seemed to be lathered all over her body deeper into her already slippery skin. She was coming teasingly close to fondling her own breasts, which were amply exposed, her standard Hogwarts uniform tie loosened and top buttons undone.

"I know I'm dirty," she whimpered. "…So dirty…."

Draco merely smirked and nodded his head in slow agreement, "You're filthy," he whispered icily.

"Yes!" she exclaimed, "I am. It's bad, I know… I know it's bad. I'm bad. I _am_ bad." She began clutching at her long, full curls. "It's wrong, so wrong. I want you... I want you so bad, and that's wrong. And you need to teach me a lesson…."

With her hands up at her head, her white button up shirt, which was already two sizes too small, went up, showing her belly and the slope of her hips before her skirt— also suspiciously much, much shorter than the standard skirt issued to the female students— managed to cling onto her body. She was now thrashing her hair about in frustration, sending the sweet flowery aroma of her locks up Draco's nose. His skin tingled.

"I'm so dirty, filthy, bad and naughty," she pleaded, "I need to be punished!"

"Yes," he whispered, "You do. Come here, I'm going to punish you."

She looked intently onto his eyes; she slowly began to walk towards him. "Punish me," she whispered.

Draco smiled back. "Finally," he thought, "She gets it, she gets that she needs me to put her in her place." His groin was about to burst through his pants. He knew exactly what he was going to punish her with.

"Punish me," she pleaded again, dropping to her knees before him.

"I will," he said softly, starting to undo his belt while gazing into her beautiful amber eyes as she looked up at him. He was going to make sure she continued to look into his eyes as she took him into her mouth. "You have to swallow all of this…." he said, as he exposed himself to her.

Her eyes widened, "But its so bi-"

"Shhh," he interrupted, "You can do it," he said softly, "You have to."

She started to smile shyly. That's what always killed him. The way her eyes sparkled when she smiled.

Red light shot out from her eyes.

Dramatically, just to torture him, she slowly started to part her lips.

A crushingly loud, blunt siren emanated from her mouth as she opened it and her eyes flashed with red light again.

Draco furrowed his brow as the quick but uncomfortable noise left his ears.

"What was that Hermione?" he asked.

But when Hermione went to answer him, no words came—only the horrible obnoxious sound again, louder this time; right from her mouth. That all too-familiar noise. That noise he hated it above all else. And her eyes, again they flashed with burning red light.

"Stop," he barked.

But again, louder than ever, all that came out of her mouth was the irking blast of noise while her eyes flashed red in unison.

Draco's head flung up, his arms swinging out in a start, knocking over an empty bottle of whiskey from the desk. Covered in sweat, he tried to get his bearings. Upon seeing the silver spinning top—blinking with red light and screaming rhythmically—among various monitors and instruments on the desk, Draco flicked out his wand and jinxed it across the room. Pushing off into a roll on his rickety office chair, he glided over to a perpendicular desk, covered with similar instruments, and turned up the flame of lantern.

"Yeah, yeah," he muttered into the flame, then reached over to the bookcase and tapped on all the right books in the right order. Ominous clanking and moaning could be heard within the walls of the old apartment building.

He stood up and stretched, then rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. Thankfully, his erection had retreated quickly.

"Damn it… the oily one again," he muttered to himself, frustrated with the fantasy. "Great, not only do I still dream about fucking mudbloods, now I'm talking to myself…." The solitude was beginning to get to him. He wondered how much longer he could take it in this dodgy, suffocating apartment

However, the only thing that was _worse_ than solitude to Draco Malfoy these days was company. And his visitors would be upon him soon—quite a lot of them from the sound of it. He went over to the door, undoing the many locks in preparation. It was funny to him, that with all the magical protection on the apartment, it was the locks that slowed down wizards the most. And what impatient bastards they could be. What sounded like a stampede was now at his door, banging away with no trace of patience.

"Bloody hell," Draco yelled, "wait just a damn minute." He barely turned the knob when four heavily cloaked men barged through. Draco, furious at being pushed, was cursing loudly as he peered out into the tiny, dank hallway; no one else.

After closing the door tightly he turned to face his guests. They were huddled together, their excitement was obvious.

"Careful," someone whispered.

Suddenly Draco's heart started pounding. Had they retrieved him?

Draco pushed his way through the shoulders of two of his fellow Death Eaters. Greyback was lowering a bulky burlap sack off his shoulder. Disappointment was instant. It was not what he had hoped, just a new prisoner, and whoever the hell they had captured, why were they bringing them to Flat #1231 instead of Endless Point?

"What are you playing at?" he demanded. "Did anyone see you—why did you bring him _here_?!"

Greyback appeared to be giggling eerily with glee, "The Dark Lord's orders!" he said, as he began to untie the knot of the sack, "Oh is he pleased with this one!"

"The Dark Lord wanted you to bring a prisoner here?" spat Draco, "Why? This is no place to hold someone…."

"Snape suggested it," interjected Bellatrix suddenly, her eyes narrow—of course. Draco hadn't noticed her among the men. She took the look of puzzlement on his face with amusement.

"Snape?" asked Draco.

"Yes," she seemed to hiss, "He apparently thought you'd be the best candidate to break her."

"Her?" he repeated skeptically, obviously not hearing things correctly.

Greyback, having finally opened the bag, dumped the body of a young girl out onto the cramped living room floor, curly golden hair sprawling everywhere.

Draco's eyes widened in surprise as he realized Hermione Granger lay unconscious before him.

Bellatrix's eyes narrowed even more, and continuing to be the worst out of all them since Draco's abysmal failure on top of the north tower, "Yes," she said, "I was surprised you were given any more responsibility as well."


	2. Chapter 2

"Hermione Granger?" he asked, too abashed by her presence to deal with Lestrange's jabs now, "How did you get _her_?!"

"We caught her trying to break into the Olive Hotel," boasted Greyback.

"_Caught _her?" mocked Bellatrix, "_trying_?!" she continued with a laugh, "She _did_ break in, and she only got "caught" because Snape happened drop by unexpectedly. She would've gotten away with everything otherwise. Found out _all_ of our locations,_ all_ of our informants, _all_ of our followers, not to mention our funds. It would've been the end of us as we know it. I can't begin tell you how pleased I am Severus was finally able to prove himself useful."

"Blimey," griped McNair, "How about doing in Dumbledore? If that wasn't useful I don't know what is…."

"Sure," she drawled, "He seems to have an uncanny knack for _luckily _winding up in the right places at the right times," casting a scathing look towards Draco.

Draco scowled at her. There was only so much reprimanding he could take from his Aunt. He got plenty of it from the others didn't he?—their snide remarks… their sarcastic jokes. Wasn't being held up in a dingy old flat guarding something so uselessly boring and unimportant punishment enough?

"Well how does that bring her here?" said Draco, uncomfortable at the very sight of her.

"She got through our security and you need to find out _how_," said McNair.

His mouth hung open in shocked confusion, "Why me? I don't interrogate! I baby sit the stupid cup," said Draco defensively.

"Stupid cup?!" shrieked Bellatrix abruptly, "You find a precious piece of your _merciful_ leader's soul, one piece of many that we have to thank for his preservation, "stupid" do you? Our Master has finally revealed to us the most sensitive, most secretive part of his existence, how he was able to return to us, his most loyal followers- and now entrusts us with helping him protect it and you go and —"

"Aunt Bella," Draco grumbled angrily, sick of her flamboyant outbursts, "You know that's not what I meant… It's just I get frustrated that I'm kept guarding it when _no one_ is _ever_going to find it way out here in the middle of muggle-fucking-nowhere. I mean, why can't I be doing something more useful—"

"I don't know," Bellatrix chided humorously, "why _can't _you do anything more useful? You couldn't kill Dumbledore, could you? That would've been pretty bloody useful."

As effective as a punch in the gut, Draco was rendered momentarily silent. "He's dead, isn't he…?" He finally mumbled, swallowing the stabs of guilt that he may forever keep them secret, "Isn't that what's important?"

"No!" she hollered, "that's not what's important. What's important is finding that loathsome little Potter brat and his friends and skinning them alive before they find and destroy another Horocrux! Do you not realize the severity of this little mudblood bitch breaking into that room at Olive Hotel?" nudging Hermione's limp body with the toe of her pointy boot, "They are close. Do you hear me? Tooclose! I think it's pretty fucking important that we find out how she did it then, don't you?"

"Yes," he grumbled again, "Of course it is…"

"And did you or did you not just say you wish you could do something more useful? Your Dark Lord, based on Severus Snape's advice, has declared _you_ the one to find out this information."

To this Draco could not find a reply.

"Don't worry," Bellatrix went on, "Your Mother shall not be hearing about your ungrateful response to this _more_ than generous opportunity to regain our Most Highest's esteem. With your Father not out of prison yet and every Auror in the ministry looking for you already, I just don't think she can bear it," she huffed.

"And just why exactly does Snape believe I am the one who will be able to extract this oh so valuable information from her?" Draco was finally able to formulate.

"Because you hate her," Bellatrix answered simply. "For Merlin's sake Draco, even out of Hogwarts you're still Snape's little favorite. Being so bored and alone out here and all, I presume he thought you'd be pleased at such a gift, a little 'Draco Doll' if you will. You've been given the chance to make her talk any way you see fit."

Draco could hardly believe the words he heard coming out of his own mouth, but with no solid good reason to get out of this, what with the corner he painted himself into already, before he knew it he said, "Well what needs to be known exactly?"

"I'm not sure, Carrow runs the Olive Hotel stronghold, and Snape was the one who saw how she got in," Bellatrix explained, "He'll be by at some point to discuss it, I believe he is still at Endless Point."

"So Snape has time to tour every hide out, but he can't answer a simple owl?" Draco growled angrily.

Bellatrix sighed, "I'm tired of hearing it Draco! If there was any new news on the next breakout, you, if not 'Cissa, would be the first informed. You know it could be any day now, just be patient," she looked distractedly at her watch, "I must be going, the Dark Lord has me on an important confidential errand," she said, beaming with obvious pride. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply.

Draco smirked, "You can't disapparate from here, you have to go out in the hall and even then you have to wait for me to turn the cloaking charm," he said with a quiet, triumphant laugh.

Bellatrix, with the apex of her cheeks slightly reddening, uttered, "Very well then, go do so!" And with that she slammed the front door.

Draco went over the desk, and spun what resembled a silver top device. Filled with absolute dread, he turned to finally face the fact that Hermione was actually there, on his floor, and was his responsibility.

McNair was rolling her over so that she was on her back. Her mouth opened slightly; she seemed white in the face. Draco began to wonder how long she had been out—dreading what it was going to be like having to deal with her once she regained consciousness—when McNair hunched over her, attempting to wipe her long hair off her face as she sprung to life.

McNair's gasp of surprise was cut short by Hermione, who had snatched his wand from his pocket faster than he could stop her. Jabbing it at his throat he was limp next to her on the floor, stunned, before anyone else in the room even had their wands out.

Sitting up, she ducked out of the way of Greyback's petrification, sending out a nonverbal petrification herself that Greyback was somehow miraculously able to dodge as well, but not without crashing into a coffee table, breaking it into pieces.

Jugson, showing the most signs of life since he arrived at the flat, went to stun her—but she was standing now and cried out "_Protego_!" shielding herself in time.

Draco, so stunned at the intense battle before him, was the slowest to respond. He was able to knock Hermione's jelly leg jinx off its course to Greyback, who was just getting back on his feet. He cursed loudly, his eyes wide with anger, as he advanced upon her. Hermione stared him down confidently as she took a dueling stance. He loomed over her, his shadow overcastting her. She was a second too late to realize McNair was making a move from the floor and he was successful in grabbing her by the ankle and yanking her back down. After crumpling on herself, she immediately punched him in the face, which resulted in a blunt kick in the stomach from Greyback.

"Fucking mudblood!" he roared angrily.

She groaned loudly as she retreated into a fetal position, her face screwed up in pain. Greyback stepped on her wrist forcing her fingers to uncurl and McNair's wand rolled away.

"Get it Malfoy!" he ordered.

Draco, in trance by the scene of brutality, lurched to life, and went for the wand.

McNair, rising to his feet, grabbed Hermione by the neck of her robes. He lifted her up off the ground, her feet swinging inches above the shabby carpeting.

"You'll pay for this little stunt you dirty bitch," he growled, and he threw her into the wall, knocking a hideous painting depicting a vase full of flowers down with her. Draco grimaced at the thought of how that must have felt when Greyback was already picking her back up, this time with Jugson swooping behind her and holding her arms behind her back. She tried to struggle her way out of his grip when Greyback backhanded her across the cheek. Hermione fought to hold in a yelp, then merely stared hatefully back at Greyback, gathering up the blood now in her mouth and spitting it at his feet.

"Bugger off," Draco finally stammered, sick of seeing grown men throw someone so tiny in comparison across the room, "She's just a girl!"

McNair glared at him, "Don't you dare underestimate her, you should see what she did to the hotel room when her and Snape dueled. Must've been trained by Dumbledore 'imself…"

"Well knock it off then," Draco replied, "Don't go wrecking my room as well!"

"She's startin' to bleed all over," Jugson said, appearing to hold her up as Hermione had let her knees give out from exhaustion. She was letting blood from her split lip run freely down her neck, as well as a few nicks and scrapes she had earned along her forearms. She was dewy with sweat.

"Betcha' feel real bad now dontcha' Granger? Well we can help you feel all better just as soon as you tell us what we need to know. You ready to mind your manners now, you filthy freak?" Greyback asked.

Hermione lifted her wobbly head up, "Fuck you, you inbred, dickless follower," she said with a satisfied smile.

Greyback looked like he was going to crack her across the face again. "Think she needs to cool down a bit boys," he finally replied. He grabbed her by the top her head, squeezing tight onto a handful of hair, and dragged her across the small apartment down the tiny hall into a dank bathroom. Before Draco could follow him in there, Greyback had ripped her robe off of her and pushed her into the porcelain bathtub. Covered only by an under tank top and black boy cut briefs, Greyback turned on the shower, blasting her with cold water.

Draco watched her scream and writhe with discomfort, freezing water washing her blood away, first turning it pink until it ran clear. Frantically she felt around above her head for the knob until she found it, kicking her feet while she adjusted the temperature. Greyback looked over his shoulder to Draco.

"C'mere," he demanded, pulling Draco over to the tub. He looked down at Hermione who looked at him for what seemed the first time. Her eyes narrowed in recognition and he felt like she was silently appraising him. He watched her chest heave up and down as her once-panicked breathing began to slow, her tank top clinging to her. Greyback grabbed Hermione's hand and thrust it into Draco's. Draco felt Greyback squeeze his fingers around Hermione's dainty hand in a tight grip. She looked at Greyback with apparent fear as to what his next move would be when he pointed his wand.

"_Bondileous permactus_," he enchanted, binding Hermione to Draco.

Hermione started to look like she was going to object, but her head began to wobble again and she slumped over, passed out.

"She's your problem now," Greyback muttered.


	3. Chapter 3

The flat seemed more suffocating than usual after everyone had left. Draco couldn't stand the quiet. He wandered around the living room for a bit, and then he sat down in an old, grungy armchair. His mind was racing.

Harry Potter's best friend and his biggest rivalry at school was sleeping in his shower. How odd it was to realize that the notions that used to drive him most fervently were rendered completely irrelevant. School meant absolutely nothing now. …And Potter? The bastard who got his Father arrested. He'd be dead by the end of the year. And it wasn't like he was going to run into him in the meantime. Not that he wouldn't like to! What he wouldn't give to be the one to bring him to Voldemort. Draco could feel the anger rising in his body now.

Simultaneously he was consumed with frustration, knowing that after his completely unsuccessful first assignment he'd never come close to receiving the task of finding and bringing Potter to his death. And even if he was to ever be eligible for such a task— after Voldemort and the usual Death Eaters— no one was more wanted by not only the Ministry but the Order of the Phoenix as well. Whether it was to put him behind bars for the rest of his life or to cut him a deal for all the information he had, no one could say. He wouldn't be able to even be in the same province as Potter without getting arrested. But even all these set backs were getting too far ahead of him.

Wanting to help kill Potter?

He had been given the opportunity to have a life in his hand and decide what to do with it, and he completely froze. He had always believed he would without a doubt do whatever it takes to survive, to be on top. Choking when he did had forced him to reassess what he was really made of. But Harry Potter, the one who had ruined everything, the one who had ruined what would have been a most glorious and successful return for someone who would have rewarded his family most richly, the one who was to blame for his Father being contained, his accounts frozen and he and his Mother evicted from their million galleon home, the one who had made him the laughing stock of his entire wizarding class, the one who ultimately led him to where he was now, alone and unimportant….

Draco kicked over the ottoman before him, fuming. He got up and hastily began repairing the damage that had been done to the apartment, flicking his wand about hastily.

"_Reparo_! … _Scourgify_!"

He sighed as he realized he would have to go check on Hermione or there might be hell to pay. Contemplating for a moment what would be worse; Hermione escaping… or Draco being forced to interact with her. Finally he accepted that if he ever wanted to move on from spending all his time with a tacky old goblet, he would have to prove he did all he could to follow his new orders. His life was at the mercy of what He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named thought of him.

He peered slowly into the bathroom. Hermione was still sleeping in the tub, her head resting on her shoulder. Draco quietly kneeled down next to it. He shook his head as he stared at her body. She had pretty little feet, limp in relaxation, and long shapely legs leading up to her boy cut undergarments. To anyone else they would seem practical and modest. But to Draco, they were irresistibly sexy the way they accentuated her perfect hips and smooth feminine stomach. Her wet, white top did not help him at all either. No male would be able to ignore her breasts. But Draco had to make himself. This attraction was ridiculous—it had to stop. Six years at Hogwarts spent going through all of puberty and then some lusting after something so stupidly impossible was bad enough.

But then there was her face… so small and perfect. Porcelain skin… long curly eyelashes… plump pink lips….

Draco couldn't help himself, he took his wand, "_Episkey_," he said, mending her lip, "_tergeo_," he went on, beginning to siphon off the remaining dried blood all the while knowing how pointless it was.

It was inevitable, wasn't it? The strongest willed person he had ever known, just giving up such information? And with her astonishing loyalty, just turning over her friends? No, her pretty little face wouldn't stay pretty much longer. He just couldn't believe he would have to be the one to do it.

No, no, _no_. He couldn't! How could he? And why bother? They could demand him to beat her into a bloody pulp and she still wouldn't utter a single fact. She would die first. She would let Death Eaters torture her to death. Draco couldn't begin to fathom such dedication—and he didn't even want to try. Right now he couldn't shake the horrible thought of ending up killing her. But that was the point, wasn't it?

When it came down to it, they wouldn't care much at all if she never talked. They probably already expected it. And, oh, how _kind_ of them, they probably assumed he didn't mind at all that torturing her would be fruitless. He'd love to end up killing her, right? Death Eaters just love to kill—especially mudbloods; especially mudbloods that have wronged them. It was a gift. Snape had truly given Draco a little doll to play with.

She _was_ very doll-like though, so innocent and sweet looking. An intriguing similarity Draco couldn't ignore. He found himself distractedly gathering her wet matted hair and moving it neatly to her shoulder.

"Remember when you came into the Room of Requirement?" Hermione suddenly murmured.

Surprised, Draco pulled his hands away from her.

"Do you?" she mumbled again, stirring a little. She wasn't even opening her eyes. Still curled up in the bath, she seemed to be almost talking in her sleep.

Her question sent him through the whirlwind of a most peculiar memory. A most strange encounter that he, and surely her as well, never told another living soul about….

Draco recalled a day in his last year at Hogwarts—one of the most miserable years of his life. He had been pacing outside the door that led to the Room of Requirement. He needed to work on the cabinet some more. Time was running out. He was concentrating on the storage room, beginning the ritual to gain access. The pressure was really starting to get to him. He hated it; he thought longingly of previous years at the school. They actually had not been that bad. He had even enjoyed some good times. Images of scaring first years and pranking other houses ran through his mind. And quidditch. He had always loved quidditch. But then of course, he remembered… he had just missed out on the match earlier that very same evening, and he feared that once again Slytherin had lost to Gryffindor.

His pacing had quickened now; the thought of Gryffindor house always made him furious for obvious reasons. But then of course like always, he couldn't think of Gryffindor without thinking of Granger. Realizing too late he was not focusing on what he should have been focusing on, he had already turned the knob….

"…Yeah," Draco finally answered, "I remember."

"You were nice then," she continued quietly, in the same sleepy tone.

Draco looked at her intently, was she just that unfazed by him to say whatever she felt like, no matter how random?

He remembered how odd it had been to open the door of that magical room, expecting to see his cabinet and instead seeing her lying there on a bed, books strewn about like she had been trying to study. She had been more than shocked to see him there as well. But, strange as it could be, it was like they made an instant silent pact: "Don't ask me what I'm doing here and I won't ask you what you're doing here," their eyes mutually promised.

But she was right. He had been nice to her then. After the silent surprise and strangeness had gone on long enough, Draco finally said something.

"Hello."

"…Hello…." she responded, slowly sitting up, wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her robe earnestly.

"…Working on that transfiguration essay?" he inquired, seeing her parchment and not knowing what else to say.

"Yeah…." Hermione said, hesitant.

"Hard, isn't it?" he commented.

"It's pretty challenging," Hermione agreed.

"They talk about it more in a later chapter of the text, reading that helps," he added.

"…Thanks…." Hermione managed to squeak.

"Well good luck on the test," he finally managed to say.

"You too," she answered.

"Bye then." And with that, he exited backwards out the door.

"Yeah, so what if I was nice…." he ultimately responded, trying to act as nonchalant as he could.

"It's weird when you're nice…." she said, "Like you cleaning up my blood now."

Draco stood up and backed away, "Well you're a disgusting mess," he said. Not sure what to do with himself, but too intrigued to discuss that night, he began rummaging in the medicine cabinet, searching out some potion ingredients.

"Why did you look so sick?" she asked, finally appearing more awake and rubbing her eyes.

"What?" he wondered.

"You had horrible bags under your eyes, and you were paler than usual. Why did you look so sick?"

"Because I was," Draco said sharply, now filling the rusty sink with hot water, "I hadn't slept in ages."

To this Hermione appeared to have no more questions. Draco assumed she was clever enough to figure out the full meaning.

"Why were you crying?" he countered quickly, remembering her glossy eyes and pink cheeks that had made an already strange encounter all the more uncomfortable.

Hermione slowly sat up now, as if trying to figure out what he meant. She looked very tired and sore, but her mouth eventually turned up into a little smirk. "Ron Weasley had gotten together with Lavender Brown," she explained with a scoff.

Something lurched inside Draco. He had a powerful desire to fly Ron two hundred feet into the air and kick him off his broom.

"Is that what you were doing there, then?" Draco drawled, sprinkling some powdered moonstone into the water.

Hermione cocked her head inquisitively.

"Pining over your broken heart?" he went on. But he quickly changed his mind; he did not want to hear anything more about putrid Weasley, "Was that your bedroom? From your muggle house?" he expanded.

"Yeah," she admitted quietly, "I would go there sometimes if I got home-sick; it was a much quieter place to study than the tower anyway…."

Draco nodded, remembering when he too needed to be one of the top students at school and understood where she was coming from. Not realizing just yet how unlike this was to anything he'd ever encountered with her before—her freely sharing personal information, and he, relating to it.

Draco found he was suddenly irritated. He snapped "_Accio!_" pointing his wand at a nearby hanging towel. Grabbing it in mid-air he flung it in Hermione's direction.

"Get up," he barked, dipping a cup into what he had concocted in the sink.

Hermione dried off the remaining water, wrapped herself in the towel and walked over to Draco, showing no signs of fear.

Draco shot back the cup and sighed, scooping up some more he said, "I made enough for you but you don't seem to need any…."

"Draught of Peace?" Hermione guessed by the look of the potion.

Draco nodded, taking another shot, "It's kind of alarming that someone who is mortal danger can be so calm."

Hermione looked defiant, "Well I wouldn't know, I'm not in mortal danger… aren't you having a lot of that?"

Draco looked puzzled, "Do you not realize where you are? And, no I'm not."

"Yes, I'm in some shit-hole apartment with a wannabe murderer."

Draco's irritation was increasing by the second—the damn draught couldn't kick in fast enough these days. He grabbed Hermione's wrist; she didn't flinch.

"_Ferula_," he said, bandaging the cuts on her arms, "Has it occurred to you that Snape will be here any moment—and that when he arrives he will be briefing me on questions to ask you. Including how to torture you until you answer?"

"It has, yes," she replied smartly, rubbing her arm.

"And this doesn't bother you?—the prospect of torture?"

"Not really," she answered coolly.

"May I ask why not?" Draco queried.

Hermione shrugged, "Because it's a prospect that won't come to pass. I will not be here for long."

Draco laughed, "Really? That's interesting. Escaping are you?"

"Yes," she said, nodded towards flat's main entrance, "I'm going to walk right out that door."

Draco laughed again, louder, "And how are you going to do that?"

"I'm sorry Malfoy," she said kindly, "But I can't tell you. You'll just have to wait and see."

Again Draco laughed. "_Stupefy_!" he bellowed suddenly.

Hermione fell to the ground, silenced. Draco scooped her up into his arms and carried her into the small bedroom, dumping her onto the bed.

He couldn't understand why he lost it. But he knew couldn't take it anymore. Talking with her he realized that his bitter enemy, the object of his constant and forbidden fantasy, was more than just someone to bark names at in the halls… was more than someone to visualize naked. She was a real person, with dimension and beliefs—like believing she'd actually leave the apartment unharmed. The more she stood there, close enough to touch, revealing more about her personality and opinions in five minutes than in six whole years, the more he knew her.

But he didn't want to know her. He just wanted her to go away. Why did she have to go get captured? How could she be so stupid, getting herself involved in this shit? She should've known she'd wind up getting herself caught or even killed eventually. She should be off curing vampirism or finding new ways to disillusion muggles. Who would let her try to break into Olive Hotel anyway? How irresponsible!

And that's when it hit him.

If she can undo their magical security, then certainly she could get through someone else's.

The last time Draco had been anywhere except Flat 1231 had been when Snape took him to Endless Point.

It was the night Dumbledore was killed, and Draco had fled the castle with Snape. He had to go face the Dark Lord, had tell him he failed to do what he had asked…. That's when he had been dismissed as useless. That's when he had been assigned to guard Hufflepuff's cup—a ridiculous measure. No one, not even a member of the Order of the Phoenix would pinpoint this random and obscure location. And even if they did there would be no way for them to get into this magically secured flat. There didn't need to be a live person here. This was punishment and everyone knew it. Draco accepted the post only because it was a notch above death.

He remembered every detail of that night. How He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named looked at him with disappointed disgust, how it was only Snape who quelled his temper. How He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named told him he would be positioned here, that he would guard one of his precious horocruxes. The smell of that old mildewed-ridden mansion—the dust in the air, the faint flickering of a few candelabras, creating the dim light that the Dark Lord preferred. What everyone was wearing, what they were whispering behind his back as he passed. He even remembered the two bricks that were set on a table—samples.

One brick from Azkaban and one from Gringott's. They were being tested. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named wanted their magic to be broken. He wanted to know how to get through their security.

That was three months ago. They had figured out Azkaban, this much he knew—ever since then he had been waiting painstakingly for news of his Father. That they had gone in to get those arrested that night in the Department of Mysteries. The magic protecting Gringott's however… from what he guessed they hadn't made a dent.

He knew where they had failed Hermione could be successful. That's what he had to do to get himself out of this. Convince Snape to let her try in exchange for her freedom. Surely she would do this; it wasn't like asking her to show them into Godric's Hollow or Grimmuald Place. What would she care about Gringott's? If she could bargain for her life, then he wouldn't have to have anything to do with her anymore.

Draco looked at her, sleeping on the bed. Instantly he was reminded of how he used to imagine catching her masturbating, rubbing herself between her legs, then suddenly she would quietly, delicately, moan his name…. This fantasy always made him feel better in a deluded, ego-stroking sort of way. Maybe, just maybe, she thought about him in the same inappropriate way he did of her…. Not very likely at all; but a boy can dream can't he? He had been for almost seven years now after all.

The closest he ever come in explaining this terrible phenomenon to himself was assuming he just wanted what he couldn't have, which wasn't very many things at all, making her all the more appealing. That's what had attracted him, from the very moment he laid eyes on her. It was just fortunate that she grew into a lovely little frame. He couldn't describe how relieved he was when she finally came up in the locker room, knowing other Slytherin's noticed and acknowledged she was one of the most physically attractive girls in the school. His obsession with fucking her didn't feel as crazy anyway.

Wondering how long he had stopped and stared at her, he snapped out of it and hurried into the living room. How brazen she had been! How bold. It was enough to drive him crazy. He was so pent-up. He felt pathetic, wanting to wank so badly. He needed his boxing gloves. He was going to take this out on the bag.

In his haste, he stumbled over something left by the sofa. He looked down and saw the burlap sack Hermione arrived in, noticing for the first time a duffel bag sticking out of it. It must have been enchanted if it fit her and a bag. He sat down dejectedly on the sofa and unzipped it. The bag must belong to Hermione; there was a girl's robe on top. Perhaps they got it from whatever room she booked at the hotel to stake out in. Draco was relieved, not wanting to deal with her lying on his bed in her panties and skimpy top anymore, he pulled the robe out hoping to find her some pants but unfortunately he took out a silky red g-string.

"This is ridiculous," he muttered to himself, throwing the duffel bag away.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Thank you so much for all the reviews, I love reading them and it sounds like so far the majority is liking the story, which is awesome! However, please feel free to give me advice, suggestions or let me know what is specifically confusing you and maybe I can fix it! My feelings don't get hurt easily, so please go ahead and be honest. Chapter 5 is almost done, and fyi it's going to be pretty smutty in case you want to skip it.

Draco rolled over on the sofa, grumbling softly. His neck ached, he was too tall for the short couch and he had slept horribly. The morning sunlight was coming in through one of the flat's few windows and penetrating his eyelids. He knew, much to his dislike, that he wouldn't be able to fall back into a deep sleep. He inhaled deeply, his nostrils filled with the smell of smoky sausage. His eyes popped open. He could hear the tinkering of pans coming from his tiny kitchen and the sound of his fridge slamming. He got up from the couch and hurried over.

"Your cupboards are empty," Hermione complained, reaching up on her tiptoes to investigate a new cubby, letting the short pajama shorts she must have found in her bag and put on show a glimpse of her butt, "Don't you have any salt?"

"Hopefully Snape will bring some," Draco muttered through gritted teeth, "whenever that will be…" irritated beyond all measure that night had come and gone and he hadn't showed up yet, on top of the impulsive and involuntary urges related to Hermione that kept surging through his body.

Hermione turned and looked at him, apparently amused, "Professor Snape brings you groceries?" she said with a laugh.

"What are you doing?' Draco spat, ignoring her teasing.

"Making some breakfast obviously," Hermione spat back mockingly.

"Just making yourself at home then?" Draco retorted.

"I'm starving," she responded, ignoring his tone, "and you were sleeping like the dead. I'm making enough for you," she added sternly, scooping half of the pan's scrambled eggs onto a plate and shoving it into his chest.

Still scowling, but impressed by the tempting hot food, he said nothing and took the plate.

Hermione, satisfied with his silence, popped sausages on top of his eggs as well, then taking her own plate, began nibbling on her own sausage as she left the kitchen and began a slow sauntering tour of the ugly living room, "You're out of eggs now too," she called back.

Draco ate in agitated silence, although he was relieved Hermione seemed to at least understand binding charms, her remarks of escaping had troubled him at first. To walk out the door too far would mean her heart would explode in her chest, and if Draco were to die, whatever the cause, Hermione would lose all electrical impulses in her brain, rendering her brain dead to the point of no recovery. It was nice to be spared that grisly conversation.

Finishing his plate he then noticed the fresh pot of coffee. Pouring himself a steamy cup he followed Hermione out to the living room.

She only had a few bites left and she was slowly feeding herself while looking with interest at his surveillance desk. The silver top was slowly starting to spin, pulsing with slow, faint red light.

Draco's hand went limp, his coffee mug flipping out of his grip and slipping all over the cheap yellow linoleum. Someone was coming, and there he was, letting Hermione see everything!

Hermione looked over at source of the racket, only to see Draco advancing upon her, wand at the ready.

"Get back in the room!" he demanded.

Hermione looked at him with confusion, "Why?"

"NOW!" he yelled, pointing his wand in her face.

"But-"

"I swear Granger, I will…" he trailed off, distracted by the top spinning faster, "Just get going!"

Hermione scowled at him, throwing her plate and fork down onto his desk, scattering various objects tumultuously. Then she stormed off down the hall.

Draco could hear the faint beep now, coming from the top. Someone intending to gain access to the flat was getting closer and closer.

They reached the room together, Hermione still looking furious towards the treatment she was receiving. Draco looked desperately around the room.

"Get on the bed," he ordered distractedly.

"What?" Hermione cried, "Why?"

"Do it!" he yelled again, scurrying around in a drawer of the bedroom's ancient dresser.

Hermione sat down in a huff when she first noticed the rhythmic beep. It was getting louder each time.

"Aha!" Draco yelled triumphantly, pulling out a grey circle. He grabbed her hand and then speedily began ripping off strips.

Hermione realized he was duct taping her wrists to the iron rod headboard, eyes wide with shocked anger as Draco kept looking over his shoulder down the hall towards his desk. The beeping was louder now.

He wrapped the tape around several times as fast as he could, looping in all directions. Satisfied enough, he tossed the duct tape away, "Best thing muggles ever did…" he joked cruelly.

"I wasn't even doing anything!" Hermione protested strongly, "Why do I have to be tied up in here?!"

Draco looked even further down the hall, craning his neck. The little top was now glowing with red light, filling the whole room with redness, and screaming a siren like beep. "Listen," he hissed in a serious whisper, "If you know what is good for you, you will act as though this is exactly where you've been since you arrived here, understand?"

Hermione, disturbed by the flashes in his icy eyes, did not argue.

Draco dashed down the hall, out of Hermione's sight. He hastily tapped the books and then ran over to work on the locks. As soon as the last bolt clicked, the door swung open ominously.

"What took so long?" barked Snape, dark and brooding as ever, looking deep into Draco's eyes in that uncomfortable piercing way like he always did.

"She, uh-," Draco stammered, "was giving me some flack… I, we, I was just feeding her."

Snape did not let go of his stare. Draco often felt like he was grabbing onto him with eyes and squeezing him on the shoulders.

"Feeding her?" he finally drawled slowly. Then he pushed his way in, dropping packages on the floor, and then surveyed his surroundings while massaging his hands. Without invite or permission, he entered Draco's bedroom. He looked at Hermione, bound to the bed. Hermione looked back at him with intense loathing. Neither said a word. With a swish of his heavy robes, he turned around and returned to Draco in the living room.

"So…" Draco said, impatient for him to say something.

"She's come up with an incantation," Snape began, as if knowing exactly what Draco wanted him to explain, "one that lets you float through alarm shields like a ghost, and one that also penetrates through cloaking devices."

He turned to look at Draco.

Draco said nothing.

"We need to know that incantation so we can figure out how to block it from now on." Snape continued then, "She will be far too strong in the mind for Veritaserum. Cruciatus, of course, is always a good idea. But it has also been discussed appealing to her muggle heritage…" he added, drawing Draco's attention to a tool box.

"What do you mean?" Draco asked.

Snape pulled a book out from his robes.

"American Torture: From the Cold War to Abu Ghraib and Beyond, by Michael Otterman," Draco read out loud.

"Muggles have used these methods in their little wars for centuries," Snape said, fanning the pages with his thumb, "Interrogation tactics… prolonged mental harm… stress positions… severe physical pain…" he read, "It's all very direct; very physical. You see; muggles are very hung up on the literal flesh and bone of their bodies, since their little minds can't comprehend energy emanating beyond the body. Pulling off fingernails with pliers say, or switching between almost boiling water to freezing water may in fact be more effective than an overall magical technique like Cruciatus."

Draco felt like he was going to be ill. Muggles could be so twisted.

"Sir…" he finally croaked, "I'm a bit concerned about all of these… methods."

Snape looked at him with mild interest but said nothing.

"I just don't feel," Draco pressed on, "that any from of torture will be effective on her…"

Snape looked unaffected by this, "Well, yes, of course," Snape agreed, "But what does that matter? Something has to be done about this incident. Our Master is not going to just let this happen without finding something useful from it. If it's not going to be answers then it's going to be eliminating the threat."

"Well…" Draco began, inhaling deeply, "eliminating her might be a mistake." He pressed on quickly, avoiding Snape's bewilderment, "She's never going to tell us _how _she can do what she can do, but wouldn't it be beneficial to us if we let her _do _what she can do?"

Snape's ears seemed to perk, "Meaning?" he inquired.

"She doesn't want us to know her technique, and that's fine, but she can go ahead and do it for us to get us into Gringott's. We could talk her into it, if it meant she got to be released."

Snape seemed to hum to himself grimly, thinking it over; "Yes…" he finally spoke, "She probably could… If anyone could…"

Draco watched him closely, waiting for anything decisive.

"Well I must admit," Snape said strangely, "its odd no one thought of this earlier…"

Draco was filled hope, "The Dark Lord will probably be pleased by my idea then? I'll go get her, you can take her to him now," he exclaimed excitedly.

Snape's expression turned menacing, "Have an ounce of patience Boy," he ordered sharply, "One can't just barge in on the Dark Lord himself and then tell him what he is going to do with his prisoners. I will take this idea to him for now, nothing else."

Draco shrank back, disappointed she wouldn't be leaving, "Well… can you at least tell him I thought of it?" he pleaded.

Snape began shaking his head as if he had a terrible headache, "Do you not hear your own ungratefulness when you talk?" he asked, "It truly is an astonishing thing to behold."

Draco went to object but he was cut off.

"Do you really think that I haven't done, and still continue to do, all that is practical to do to put in a good word for you and your entire family?"

"Sir," Draco started, "You know I meant no disrespect, I know the only reason I'm alive is because of you, I have nothing but gratitude for what you have done…"

"And I have done a lot," Snape interrupted again, "The Mudblood being here is evidence of that!"

Draco looked confused, about to protest.

Snape changed his tone as if he was talking to a young child, "I found the Dark Lord entrusting you gathering this important information and or the honor of disposing of her to be a mighty statement of growing approval. A feeling I am pretty sure he did not develop on his own."

"Yes," he answered quietly, not wanting to meet Snape's gaze, "I understand you have done me and Mother a great kindness, as I know you will continue to do for my father once he is back-"

Snape practically groaned, "I knew this would end up about your Father somehow…"

Draco was officially angry now, "It's not like I haven't been waiting for almost a month, going days at a time without an update!"

"And the update is always the same, is it not?"

"Yes, yes," Draco grumbled, "As soon as we're sure we know the guards routine…" he repeated as though he had heard it numerous times.

Snape looked amused, "And now we are confident we do."

Draco finally looked back at Snape, wide eyed.

"Looks like our best window is at 8:37 pm."

Draco's eyes got even wider.

Snape looked pleased with himself, "So, I will present the Dark Lord with your suggestion, accompany McNair and Lestrange to Azkaban prison, and, as far as I can predict, be back here tonight."


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Hello people kind enough to read me. As I work on the next chapter I am learning to appreciate how challenging writing a guy's perspective can be. I've never really done Draco's POV before and I would really like to hear how I am doing. Since Draco's character is kind of up in the air at this point in the series I hope no one minds I direct him toward the conclusion I feel/predict/hope JK will (to some degree of course, obviously Hermione is Ron's and rightly so). That's kind of how I got a start at fanfic actually, while waiting so long for the next book I would scribble down what I wished would happen even though I knew it never really could. I'm not quite sure what I'll do when I finally accept there won't be anymore books to wait for! Anyone else crying too? Anyways! At this rate my next fic will be an autobiography haha. Since I can't imagine that getting too many good reviews, please review this one instead!

… … …

Draco felt better than he had in a long time. Soon his Father would be back, and return everything to normal. People would respect him. They would move back into the manor. His Mother would stop crying herself to sleep every night. But most importantly, he wouldn't have to guard the Horocrux anymore. Surely the Dark Lord who—despite being livid about the failure with the prophecy—would be all-too-pleased to have one of his most loyal and well connected followers back… especially when numbers were so low. He would have to start treating Draco as nicely as he would his Dad.

He was surging with energy. Snape had just left; no one would come calling for quite awhile. Now was the perfect time sneak across the street to a small gym. He had an intense desire to go box. He looked around the flat for his gloves only to quickly deflate a little.

No more sneaking away from the flat as long as Hermione was there. Whether it be the gym or the little market on the corner, the tiny distance he dared venture away from his post was dangerous enough when he was alone. If anyone found out he was leaving the apartment, even for five minutes to get a newspaper and a candy bar, he would be in severe trouble. But he couldn't leave her unattended; he couldn't go that far away from her with the binding charm. And he certainly wasn't going to take her with him; that could be disastrous.

While bothersome it would be something he could deal with. Nothing could bring him down today. He would be reunited with his Father, who would praise him for his perseverance. It was only fair—after all, while he was in jail Draco had joined the Death Eaters, maintaining honor for the family name. He was also successful in finally finding a way into coveted Hogwart's. Sure, he failed to kill the only one he had ever feared, but that was to be expected wasn't it? He was only a student… and he immediately after took up a new job, determined to repay the Dark Lord.

Yes—funny how there were so many different ways of looking at it. To anyone else he complained relentlessly about his circumstance. But as far as his Father would be concerned, his fortitude was to be highly respected.

Draco was still shaking with excitement. He was restless, with no outlet for his elation. He wanted to bounce off the walls. Instead, he distractedly unloaded the groceries Snape had brought and cleaned up the coffee he had spilled earlier that morning. He moved the tool box, not wanting to dwell on it. He shoved it into an already cramped closet, eager to wash his hands of it.

Realizing Hermione had been tied up for a few hours now, he went to check on her.

"He's gone," she said forcefully, waiting for him, "You can let me go now."

But Draco just shook his head. He couldn't now, not when he was so close to ridding himself of this place forever. He didn't want to risk anything, she should stay confined, at least until Snape got back to take her to Voldemort.

"Sorry," he said, "But it's just for a little while."

Hermione scowled, squirming at the tape. It was terrible for Draco, her body elongated and bound to his bed; her legs rubbing together, showing off their silkiness. "It's too tight," she whined.

Draco sighed and climbed up on the bed. Hovering over her he snipped a bit of the tape, loosening it. Hermione wiggled immediately, but then quickly looked disappointed and ceased. Draco, now directly over her, looked down—he could see down into her top. Hermione looked up at him, her facial expression mysterious, but her eyes intense. She said nothing to reprimand him for looking down her shirt. Draco, surprised, stopped fiddling with the tape, placing his hands on his thighs, kneeling next her.

Hermione suddenly sat up as much as she could, despite her hands being tied above her head. Before Draco knew it her lips were pressed against his.

Soft and plump, she was kissing him firmly.

Without thinking Draco took her face in his hands and plundered his tongue into the soft cavern that was her mouth. She twirled her tongue around as he explored, sliding against his. Draco's body flooded with delight once more. She tasted like peaches. He broke away in surprise, looking at her attractive face. She looked hungry for more. Ferociously they started kissing again. Draco had now moved his legs out from under him, lying next her.

Instinctually he rolled over a bit more, to be more on top of her. Her body felt so good beneath his, so dainty and curvaceous in comparison. He enjoyed the feeling of melting into her. His hands were now around her neck, desirous to feel more of her skin, the outline of her body. He pressed his chest into hers. She slightly wrapped her leg around his. He scooped his arm underneath her, pulling her more tightly into him. His other hand began to roam the rest of her. As he slid his hand down the length of her front she rubbed her leg against his more fervently. He gripped her hip, pushing himself into her. A soft moan escaped through their kisses.

It was as if he had blinked and reality instantly became one of his fantasies, so smooth was the transition. His hand slid back up her body and groped her breasts. He was like a kid in a candy store, not knowing what sweet to indulge in first. It was arousing the way she subtly arched her back, humming softly. She was kissing him so aggressively, rubbing her legs and her belly against him. She was so hot. She was coaxing him to pleasure her, he knew it. Finally, after years of wondering and dreaming, he would know for himself what treasure lay between her legs.

He began untying the drawstrings of her shorts as they kissed. He was so excited, he couldn't control the way he was shifting his own hips, pulled towards her by his erection like a magnet. He liked rubbing himself against her; she was really there. She was moaning quietly as he got the knot undone. Their kiss broke and he smiled slyly. Savoring the moment, he slowly wiggled his fingers under the elastic band of her shorts-

"Untie me," she whispered.

Draco paused. His expression turned blank.

"What?" Hermione asked with an air of impatience. "Untie me," she said again.

Draco officially withdrew. He pulled his hand out of her shorts and rolled off of her.

Anger, embarrassment, disappointment all equally flooded him. He had not been dreaming, but reality wasn't real either. She was trying to con him. He couldn't believe. Finally he scoffed madly. "You little whore," he muttered.

"Excuse me?" Hermione spat.

"Nice try," he said firmly, "Practically had me."

"What are you talking about?" Hermione questioned.

"I'm talking about how you thought you could seduce me into untying you…" he explained while standing up, "You know, if that was your plan, you really should've offered up a lot more than a little snogging before going for it," he added bitterly.

Hermione looked wounded. She turned bright red, pulling her legs up into her chest in a defensive coil. Scowling, she avoided his eyes, staring at her own knees.

Draco slammed the door.

… … …

He spent the rest of the miserable, angst ridden day throwing darts at the wall from his office chair, taking too many drinks from a whiskey bottle and muttering angrily.

He could not believe he had fallen for it. He could not believe he revealed to that filthy little Mudblood that the idea of kissing her, of touching her, didn't repulse him. He was furious that she even_ thought_ trying to seduce him would work at all. He had given her way too much ammo; hopefully, he had completely debunked the rest of her hopes. He had figured it out, he had turned her down. Thank god. How could he be so stupid? It had just happened so fast… her kissing him. Of course he didn't think it was _real_.

Draco rubbed his temples and sighed. He wished Snape would just come with his Dad and take Hermione away already. He looked anxiously at the clock. If things went well… his Dad should've been busted out three minutes ago…

His thoughts anxious and heavy, he wondered what did she hope to get out of it anyway? Once she was untied… then what? Get a wand? Stupefy him? Carry him away to the Order of the Phoenix? She could've done that this morning while he was sleeping. Did she know how to exit the flat? Could she figure out the magic just from her five minutes of wandering around? There's no way she could know the combination of book taps… right? Why didn't he tie her up sooner… he had let her see too much! Thank Merlin she didn't open the closet at the end of the hall. Not that an old ratty box labeled "light bulbs" would attract too much attention…

"Damn it!" he growled. He couldn't believe it was still bothering him so intensely. How'd he get back on her anyway? Shouldn't he be worried about his Dad showing up soon…?

Then, as if right on cue, he noticed the top starting to spin, faint light blinking on.

He leapt out of his chair, knocked the books just right then ripped open the locks. Swinging open the door he grinned at Severus and Lucius standing on the other side of the threshold.

"Father," he said, trying his best not to sound giddy.

"Draco," the Malfoy patriarch said calmly. The two men stepped in.

Suddenly, after daydreaming about this moment for weeks now, he realized he didn't know what to say. "Welcome back," he finally gasped.

"Yes…" Lucius said oddly, "Much to be welcomed to indeed."

Draco struggled, he could not think of anything to say next.

"Granger?" spoke Snape, eyebrows raised.

Draco nodded down the hall, "Still in there," he mumbled.

Snape disappeared into his room while his Father surveyed the place Draco had been working the last three months, removing black leather gloves slowly.

"Terrible, isn't it?" Draco commented.

Lucius merely nodded, he seemed smug, but perhaps this was nothing too out of the ordinary.

"…I'll be glad to put it behind me," Draco added.

Lucius finally turned away from the desk to look Draco in the face.

"I mean, I had been thinking…" Draco went on, strangely nervous, "…Now that you're back, I could get a new assignment."

Lucius inhaled deeply, "I wouldn't know anything about that Draco; you know it is the Dark Lord who leads his Death Eaters."

"Well," Draco scoffed, "You could talk to him for me."

Lucius's tone turned fiery, "No. I don't believe I will, I have enough to deal with, thank you very much. After being arrested, after failing my master with his prophecy, my mistakes alone are enough to repay. You going and making everything worse is the last thing I need! And I can't _not_ say it Draco," he went on, his voice growing crueler with each passing word, "you could not believe my disappointment upon hearing that my own son failed him as well. A father should be able to count on his boy when he is away, not expect him to add to his shame! Now you want me to tell Our Most Highest that you want to quit on _another_ job? After he so kindly spared your life the first time? I think not!"

Draco could not believe his ears. Disappointment? Shame? After all he's done? After everything he's sacrificed? All he risked? He pursed his lips, brow furrowed. He said nothing.

Lucius mercilessly continued, "I mean, bloody hell, I know I raised you better than that. In all your rearing, when did I ever, _ever_, tell you failing was acceptable? I didn't! Did I? _Did I_?"

"No," Draco answered quietly, "…you didn't." It was best to just go along with whatever he said when he was like this. That's one thing Draco truly did learn from Lucius's "rearing"—if you could call it that. If he just bit his tongue, and breathed deep, it would be over soon… Besides, he'd be numb in a second anyway…

"How could you be so stupid?" Lucius went on, "Failing the Dark Lord… Why did you even join if you weren't man enough? Why even accept the task anyway, if you couldn't do it? I mean all you hand to do was point your wand at a pathetic old man and say two little words! Have I honestly raised a son that can't do that? This is what I'm passing everything on to?"

…But he wasn't numb yet… he felt his blood boiling, like fire was surging through his veins. Why did he join? So his Mother wouldn't have to live on the street! Why did he accept the mission? Because Voldemort said he'd kill him if he didn't. And why couldn't he do it? Maybe because he wasn't even out of school yet! He closed his eyes, trying to envision he was somewhere else. He pictured Granger alone in the dim, deserted library. He walked up silently behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and started to suck on her neck. Overcome with arousal she drops her book… No, no, no! Not her. Not anymore. He could still hear Lucius yelling, he hadn't escaped it.

"…rethink my will, I should…!"

God, why wasn't he numb yet?

Snape finally returned with his usual swoop. Lucius ceased his tirade, but that didn't matter, surely the whole floor could hear his yelling.

"The Dark Lord liked your idea," said Snape.

Draco felt his chest puff up with relief.

"Have you hit her?" Snape asked.

"What?" Draco responded.

"Violence, Draco," Snape went on with a hint of impatience, "Have you used any?"

"No..." Draco answered slowly, not knowing whether to lie or not.

To his relief Snape replied, "Good. Continue to show her humane treatment. I've just made her the offer. If she hesitates to accept by tomorrow, some mild torture may necessary… to show the contrast between being on our good side compared to our bad side."

"So she won't be leaving until tomorrow night?" Draco said, trying to hide his miserable disappointment.

"Correct," Answered Snape, "And she should be back before dawn."

"Back?" Draco repeated, surprised.

Snape narrowed his eyes, "Forgive me," Snape drawled, "but I couldn't help but overhear…" he said, casting him, then briefly Lucius, a disapproving look, "If you want a responsibility you find more _suitable_ than your current one… Well, to put it bluntly, the Dark Lord only takes those willing to kill for him seriously…"

"Granger?" Draco practically whispered, "You're still going to kill her?"

"_You're_ going to kill her," Snape corrected him.

"But why does she have to die?"

"Are you being serious?" Snape questioned in a condescending tone, "She won't teach us her magic so we can use it. The next best thing, thanks to your brilliant idea, is to use it to our advantage, but after that… well she's still a threat, isn't she? Once she is released she'll just break into another one of our holdings; she needs to be disposed of. No matter what."

"But didn't you just tell her if she did what we'd ask she'd be let go?"

"Yes," said Snape rudely, as if Draco was a moron asking if the sky was blue.

Draco, not realizing he had stopped breathing, exhaled shakily. They were just going to lie to her so bluntly. Let her think she was going to be okay… He didn't know why he was so shocked. He knew he really shouldn't be. These were Death Eaters after all. But still, until it really happens to you…

"Is that going to be a problem?" Snape inquired, staring into him in that horrible gripping way.

Draco found it in him to shake his head.

"…Dumbledore had an intimidating reputation," Snape went on, as if trying to coach him, "She's just some nobody muggleborn; couldn't be easier—like taking out trash."

Draco, not at all motivated by Snape's little pep talk and actually even more angry that not only was his father not going to help him out of this place, but that he would have to do what he had tried so hard to avoid doing anyway, said nothing in response.

Snape, satisfied with Draco's silence, turned to Lucius, "Ready then, Lucius?"

Lucius had begun putting his gloves back on, "I am."

He held the door open for Snape, and then turned to Draco one last time, "There is no room for error on this one boy," he said threateningly before slamming the door.

Once alone Draco exploded with rage, punching as hard as he could into the wall, old plaster crumbling into a fist-sized hole.

"Fuck!" he screamed, his knuckles split open and bleeding.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: This chapter is practically all adult, FYI. I've got to hurry up now if I want this finished in time. Please give me lots of feedback so I can apply your advice and corrections to the ending! It just may inspire me to get 7 up asap!

… … …

He went crashing into his bedroom, ripping open his top drawer. Scrambling through random phials, he chose one, pulled the cork out with his teeth and dumped the contents onto his hand. He hissed loudly as it stung. Frantically he looked around the top of his dresser. Dissatisfied he glanced over to his nightstand where he saw the bottle of fire whiskey he was looking for.

He unscrewed it hastily and took several long gulps. He popped the bottle out of his lips to catch his breathe heavily, wiping his brow with his sleeve. He looked down and saw Hermione, who looked vacant yet miserable.

"You alright?" she finally asked.

"What do you care _mudblood_?" he scathed, taking another swig.

"Well, there was a lot of yelling," she tried to continue.

"Just shut up!"

Hermione rolled her eyes, and blatantly ignored his demand, "I have to use the loo," she said "and Snape said I could have a shower."

"Did he?" said Draco in a mocking tone, still seething with anger and ready to snap at anything, "Well let's give _Princess Bank Robber_ a toilet break then!"

Digging out his wand he blasted the tape off of the headboard and then pulled her up sharply by the forearm, "Don't try anything funny," he warned, shoving her into the bathroom and slamming the door.

Draco turned and collapsed onto his bed, still nursing his bottle. He had _never_ in his life felt so wretched, so hopeless. His own father! …Finally back and able to relieve him from this life but refusing. He couldn't believe it. He had counted on it so much, the very thought; the only thing keeping him going. He did not want accept it. He had always tried to ignore the fact that he hated his father, but it was so stupid to now. All he felt was hate. "This is all _his _fault," he thought.

The sound of the plumbing came clanking—she must be starting her shower. Instantly in front of his eyes was the dreamscape of Hermione emerging from a misty shower, lathering herself seductively with fragrant soap, then turning to Draco with a sexy smile, urging him to join her. Wanting to massage soap sensually all over his back before…

He sat up angrily, but wise enough not to punch anything again. _Damn it!_ He just wanted her. And if it was any other girl but _her_ he could just walk right into that shower with no problem and get whatever he wanted.

And being used to getting whatever he wanted, he certainly was not taking the current situation well. Granted, he had the mother-of-all emotional manipulative and verbally abusive Fathers, but at least Lucius had always previously provided well.

He was completely unaware he was throwing a horrible tantrum like a spoiled brat, because he had known no other life than that of a spoiled brat until Voldemort came back and his Father got arrested. Was it just him, or was the return of Voldemort _not_ the greatest thing to ever happen like so many of his family associates had speculated? Hadn't everything in fact gotten _worse_ for him and his family?

Before, when he said he didn't want to do something, he didn't have to. And when he said he wanted something, he bloody well got it.

But here he was, not wanting to guard the stupid cup, but having to, not wanting to kill anyone, but having to, and incidentally, wanting to shag Granger stupid, but being unable to! _Nothing_ was going his way. Nobody was even listening to him. _Him! _Draco Malfoy. Muggleborns like Granger wouldn't even shut up when he told them to! He couldn't take it; he was going to lose his mind.

The shower had stopped. He took more drinks. That's when he heard it, the sound of something shattering.

That nuisance wasn't trying to go out the window was she?

In a flash Draco kicked in the bathroom door. Hermione pulled a towel up to her as fast as she could, mouth dropped in horror. "Get out!" she screamed.

Draco switched between the naked, barely covered Hermione and the broken potion bottle in the sink. It wasn't the window that had shattered. Finally this all registered and he backed out, closing the door.

It was only a few seconds before Hermione came storming out of the bathroom, still glistening from the humidity of the hot shower, dressed back in her tank top and short pajama shorts.

"What the hell?" she barked.

"Never mind!" Draco yelled back, "What were you doing going through my cabinet anyway?"

"I was seeing if you had any Essence of Murtlap for your hand!" she answered loudly.

"Oh, how fucking sweet," Draco shouted angrily, "What's next, going to _heal _me into releasing you? Whoring yourself out in any which way?"

Hermione sighed with frustration, "Look," she said firmly, "I don't know what the hell I was thinking okay? Obviously, I made a _huge_ mistake. I've had a really traumatic last couple of days, _clearly_ I was delirious. Bloody Stockholm syndrome if you will. Please, just forget about it. I knowI would love to."

Draco scowled at her, "Just get back where you were," he ordered harshly.

Silently and without argument, Hermione got back on the bed looking defeated.

Draco, again with his duct tape, crawled up onto the bed next to her. Realizing he was in the same position as he was when she first kissed him he got a fluttery nervous feeling in the pit of his stomach as he rebound her wrists, very tightly this time.

He hated the sick, shaky feeling and missed with longing the days when it was the other way around; when people were nervous around him instead. Back when he instilled fear in others, when he was the one with the power over them.

"What the hell happened to that anyway?" he thought with silent anger to himself. There was a time when Draco would walk in a room and everyone would automatically know who was superior.

He looked down at Hermione, making the same mistake as before, transfixed by her cleavage.

But instead of allowing him this time, she clucked her tongue in annoyance, "Finished?" she asked.

Draco gave her an irritated glare. Now she was telling him what to do.

"No." said a strong and forceful voice in his head. He _wasn't_ finished actually. He liked looking at her. And you know what? He was going to help himself to the privilege.

In fact, Draco really liked the sound of his raw, unfiltered response. He may not be able to tell the Dark Lord what to do, or his Father, or even Snape… but Mudblood Granger? His prisoner? Well, he was in charge here. Perhaps it was time to make that clear.

Without thinking it through too clearly, he reached out and began stroking her cheek. Hermione flinched and tried to shake her head, pushing his hand away. Draco merely took her by the chin and held her face still.

"Stop," Hermione said.

Draco said nothing, he just silently looked her up and down; pleased as he saw the confusion and worry grow on her expression. Knowing she was wondering what she could do, and realizing nothing, that she was helpless when it came down to it caused a strange sense of satisfaction to overcome him. He was in control here, and it was a strangely empowering thing to realize. Perhaps the days of Lucius getting Draco whatever he wanted were over. Perhaps it was time Draco started getting things for himself!

He leaned down and kissed her hard on the mouth, shoving his tongue between her lips.

"Quit!" she yelled when he finally broke off.

Draco smiled wickedly.

"What's the matter?" he drawled, "Didn't hear you complaining earlier…" He repositioned himself over her, straddling her sides.

"Oh please," she said with a nervous laugh, "Is the wannabe murderer a wannabe molester now too? Or are you just drunk?"

Did she just _laugh_? Did he need to demonstrate that he was to be taken seriously? His grin grew even wilder.

"So you weren't previously grinding into me then?" he questioned, "Because if memory serves me correctly you were… you know, after _you _kissed _me_…"

Hermione was shaking her head, "Just forget about that Malfoy-"

But Draco was already back to kissing her, invading her mouth aggressively, sucking on her tongue and massaging it deeply. Pulling away he looked at her again, but this time she had nothing to say—she just looked him deeply into the eyes, obviously concerned, wondering if he was bluffing or not.

But Draco paid no mind, he dipped down to kiss her neck, sucking lightly, grazing her with his teeth. He felt her stiffen; trying to stifle the tingle he was certain she felt.

If he wanted her to tingle, she would tingle.

"Malfoy!" She whined desperately.

But he stuck the tip his tongue in her ear, rendering her completely speechless, giving her plenty of time to savor the heat.

Tasting her, kissing her freely, had caused erotic momentum to build within him. He recalled the abrupt stop he had suffered through previously. He was not going to put himself through that again. No, he was starving and Hermione was a banquet that he was going to feast on.

He slid his hands down her sides, appreciating her generous curve and then gripped her hips. He pushed himself onto her. She managed to make no noise but Draco felt her shift beneath him. He smiled, liking the idea of coaxing it out of her, and he quickly slid his hands back up, pushing her tank top up to her chin revealing her breasts.

Draco breathed heavily, taking in her magnificence. More beautiful and vivid than his most detailed fantasy, he dived right in, overtaking a nipple into his hot mouth while he grabbed her other breast firmly with his hand and squeezed. He felt Hermione tighten even more, desperate to ignore any feelings he might be stimulating within her…

But the rest of her body betrayed her as Draco felt her nipples harden and was pleased to be able to suck more vigorously and lightly tweak the other with his fingers. Draco could've sworn he heard her hold in a squeal and she was fidgeting a lot now. Draco broke away, and after giving her one more taunting lick on her taut, peaked breast he checked his progress. She had her eyes screwed closed tightly, biting her bottom lip firmly. But there was nothing she could do to stop her face from flushing. Yes—he was turning her on.

Only one way to know for sure though… As quickly as he had whipped up her top, her shorts were down at her knees. Taking his time now, he drew slow circles over her cotton panties with the fingertips he managed to squeeze in between her tightly closed thighs. He watched as goosebumps spread across her belly. No matter how hard she tried to keep her legs together though, Draco could still slide one finger down to her center.

"Oh yes," he uttered huskily upon finding slickness, "You're so wet."

He couldn't believe she was warmer, softer, than he had been able to imagine. Settling on her clit, he expertly began flicking it speedily from side to side. Draco did not move his steady gaze from her face, awaiting her response. Her pelvis lifted upward and she inhaled with audible sharpness, biting even harder into her lip. Her hands were now in tight fists and he noticed her toes were pointed. Draco watched her chest rise as she continued her silent struggle. He took the apex of her bountiful chest into his mouth again, massaging it playfully with his lips before sliding the middle finger he had been teasing her clit with into her and moved it inside her skillfully.

Finally, a low groan escaped her mouth and Draco felt his already swollen cock surge with even more pressure. He was pleasuring her and she liked it, no matter how hard she tried to pretend… tried to deny. His eyes narrowed with triumph, the sound of her sexy involuntary vocalization only motivated him to play with her further as he enjoyed her growing wetness… curious and inspired to see what more he could accomplish.

She was his to do with whatever he wanted. And he wanted her to scream his name. He slid another finger into her and began to beckon firmly.

"Your pussy…" Draco moaned, "… is so hot," he whispered, disbelieving the firmness with which her walls squeezed him. He felt as though his penis was trying to leap out of his pants, jealous of his fingers. Another moan from Hermione only made matters worse. She thrashed her head about angrily, obviously disappointed in herself for revealing anything. But her head was tossed back now, her arched back pushing her breasts even more into Draco's mouth, which he had undoubtedly left his mark on, and her hips wiggled with earnest, her legs strangely not clenched together anymore, but limp just enough to part.

"Oh god," he murmured as he continued to finger her, distracted by the intense yearnings of his groin. He was wanted to so incredibly badly… but could he really?

And then she moaned. Not a groan but a real moan. Then she held something in her throat that came out as a seductive whimper.

Yes! He could. He really could. He wanted to make her scream his name, didn't he? He was determined to revert to a life where he got what he wanted. Where people did what he wanted them to do. She would be the ultimate return.

He sat up, pulling off his t-shirt. Hermione's eyes popped open at the momentary break from his erotic games. Draco smiled at her. He slowly exaggerated the movements needed to undo his pants, while she watched, desperate to not reveal anything on her face. She failed miserably however, when Draco's erection came springing out as he heftily pulled down his pants and boxers and her eyes doubled in size.

"Mmm," Draco hummed, "That's for you," he said, shimming the rest of his clothes off. Then he slipped off her now damp panties.

Hermione was panting heavily as Draco roughly pulled apart her knees, kneeling between them, sitting back on his own heels. His cock pulsed with excitement right outside her slit, eager to enjoy.

Draco marveled again at the situation he was in—her actually being naked and spread out before him. She stared at him intensely, obviously anticipating what would happen next with much anxiety. Her lips were so rosy and swollen. Draco reached forward and traced them with his fingertip. He loved the way the pinkness of her lips contrasted against her creamy white skin. He especially loved the way the pink of her lips also matched the pink of her nipples as he traced down to them as well, tickling circles across her chest, and then again the pinkness matched between her legs as he dragged his finger down her stomach and taunted her clit once more. She whimpered and wiggled. She was perfect; like a doll.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, and then he slid his hands around her, cupping her ass tightly and squeezing even tighter as he lifted her up.

She gasped as he penetrated, her mouthing dropping wide in airless surprise.

"_Ohh_," Draco moaned as well. It was better than he ever dreamed. Nothing had _ever_ come close to how amazing she felt around his erection. He slid out and then slowly pushed back in.

Hermione had closed her eyes once more. But she seemed to lick her lips hungrily. Draco's bewilderment that he was actually inside her slowly faded away. He was overtaken with excitement. Forcefully, expertly, he began thrusting into her, moaning with pleasure as her insides stroked him with tight, hot wetness.

He grinned fiendishly as her hips hesitantly began rocking in unison with his motion. He sped up. Hermione slipped another gasp. He went harder.

"Oh," she cried out loud. She opened her eyes again, hoping Draco didn't notice. But his eyes were ready to bore into hers. She had never seem them flash so silvery before. He pushed into her harder again, faster. He liked how her breasts bounced slightly to his thrusts. Again she cried out; then again. Each time he shifted his weight onto her. Pleasure reverberated throughout his whole body. The sound of her pleasured cries only added to it.

Harder and faster, he increased. Hermione's cries again matched. Deeper and deeper he went.

Soon the room was filled with her yelling… "Yes. Yes. Yes! YES!"

Draco gripped her hips more strongly. He grunted in ecstasy. He was fucking her so hard now that the iron headboard matched Hermione's screams, banging into the wall rhythmically. They were rocking the whole room. The mattress squeaked on its rickety setting.

"Oh god, oh god," Hermione started muttering, any intention of holding it in completely obliterated. He could feel her squeezing harder than ever now. He was going to make her orgasm.

"Come, Hermione," he ordered softly, "Come while I'm in you. I want to feel it."

Hermione whimpered loudly, her face was bright red. He could feel her whole body start to tremble, shaking strongly. Draco, releasing a grip he had on her hip, placed his palm beneath her bellybutton and pushed gently, using his thumb to draw circles on her clit.

"Oh god," she screamed, "_Draco_…"

Yes! Yes, she screamed his name. Now _he_ was shaking…

Hermione let out an earsplitting scream, arching her whole body upwards as her insides choked Draco more tightly than ever. He yelled out with her.

Then she collapsed back down onto the bed, feeling her muscles spasm softly.

Draco gasped as he felt her vibrating all over him and he rocked his hips into her limp body a few more times, tingling at the pulsations of his own body, then he yelled loudly, feeling himself explode inside her.

After releasing Draco fell into her, completely exhausted, realizing the burn he had earned in his legs. He buried his face into her neck, panting like a dog.

He felt lighter than he had in a long time. Emptied, freed, happy… He could feel his heart pounding in his chest. He felt alive. He nuzzled into her, rubbing her skin against his face. She had made him feel so good. He felt so victorious.

Like a gloating winner, he wanted to see the look on Hermione's face now, knowing there was nothing she would be able to do to hide her complete satisfaction. He lifted himself up, nudging her only slightly.

But Hermione hissed softly through gritted teeth. Draco froze and then she moaned. But not pleasurably like just a few moments ago, this time with pain.

Draco sat up and surveyed her. Aside from still being stark naked and glistening with sex appeal… then his eyes had reached her wrists, still taped above her head. They were bright red, but her hands were white slightly tinged with blue.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: I decided to give Draco lots and lots of sex before I make him realize the magnitude of his dilemma. Silly boys, they're so easily distracted. But I'm putting him through a lot in this and wanted to throw the poor kid a bone. Please review! Chapters gotta go up like mad!

… … …

He stared at the obvious source of her discomfort, then down to her grimacing face. Draco started to feel… well, he wasn't quite sure, but he was stirred up to act. 

He ripped apart the tape and was going to pull it right off her, but saw that it had rubbed against her with such friction that it broke the surface of her skin, forcing him to peel it slowly, minding what must be stinging abrasions. Hermione was silent, but back to biting that poor bottom lip. Why did he have to tie her up so tightly, or so high above her head? Or even rock the headboard so much. This was entirely his fault.

"Did I have any Essence of Murtlap?" he asked hurriedly.

"It broke in the sink," answered Hermione at last, exhaling deeply. "Besides, it's not my wrists I can't handle, it's my should-" but Hermione groaned out loud as Draco tried to sit her up and let her put her arms down. "Ow, ow, ow," she muttered while freezing in a still position, holding her arms straight up above her head.

"Your shoulders?" he queried.

"… I think I strained something…" she said quietly, "Oh… I can barley move… Do you know any potion remedies for pulled muscles?"

Draco furrowed his brow in thought, "No," he replied harshly, "I'd make one but I don't have any Milkweed…" He didn't know why he sounded so irritated; he just wanted the situation resolved. He wanted to fix her so he wouldn't have to feel…bad… about it anymore.

Hermione was moving very slowly—apparently every kind of movement hurt—as she pulled her tank top down. Draco couldn't stand it.

"Your hands were freezing," he commented worriedly.

"Really?" she said, "I can't feel them. I think they're asleep, my circulation was cut off," she tried to make a fist but didn't even come close to curling her fingers before groaning and giving up. Her wrists were still red and fat, swollen from all the binding and pulling. Then she tried to shrug her shoulders, as if maybe stretching would stop the cramping, but she just winced. "I'm going to be so stiff," she complained.

Draco had put his pants back on hastily and climbed out of the bed. He ran off into the bathroom to check his cabinet even though he knew he didn't have anything useful in there.

"Do you have any Ibuprofen?" he heard Hermione call out from his room, "Or Tylenol?"

Draco poked his head around the door frame, "What's that?"

Hermione sighed, "Never mind… muggle stuff," she added when Draco's expression looked unsatisfied. Then suddenly Draco's eyes lit up.

"Here," he said, summoning a robe from the living room with his wand. "C'mon, I know what we can do."

Hermione groaned and tried to protest but Draco was pulling her up and pushing her down the hall.

"Ouch," she cried whenever he touched her shoulders.

"Sorry," Draco muttered, anxious and in a hurry to rid himself of these strange feelings of responsibility and apparently, guilt.

"Where are we going?" she questioned, baffled as Draco did what was necessary to open the door and scoot her out into the hallway. Next thing Draco was guiding her across the quiet, empty city street in front of his building with the palm of his hand pressed against the small of her back, after her repeated refusal to let him take her by the hand, as he kept forgetting how tender she was.

He was running her up to the storefront of some business among the various shops across the street.

"It's the middle of the night Malfoy," Hermione commented in confusion, "What are we doing at… "Jim's Gym?"" she read the shabby blue lighted sign bewilderedly.

"It's ok," he answered, "I know the guy. He runs a pretty small clientele. The secret is he never locks the door in case anyone wants a midnight workout."

"How nice of him," Hermione said in annoyance, "But I don't feel much like bench pressing at the moment!"

"No, no," Draco said distractedly, "There's, like, some muggle stuff here," he explained, "Jim gave it to some guy after he dropped a dumbbell and ripped a tricep."

Hermione, somewhat intrigued, followed him into the little gym. It was empty except for the two of them. Draco flicked on the lights.

"Wait just a second," he said as he went towards the back, passed all the equipment and weight racks and punching bags to the row of lockers on the back wall.

"Here," he said returning to Hermione who had been looking around with interest and handing her a tube of goo.

"_IcyHot_?" she said with a laugh.

"It will help right?" he asked pleadingly.

"Yeah, this will be great," she said, and Draco finally relaxed a little. "But first I'm getting in there," she said with a point.

Draco looked over and saw her referring to the jacuzzi. He gazed back at her with a smile like she was joking, but realized she wasn't. "No, Granger," he said, "There's no time for that."

But Hermione was shaking her head and headed over to the controls. "It says right there on the side, "Ultimate Athletic Physical Therapy Spa"," and she turned on the jets. "Turn around," she said, untying the neck of her robe. She was not given any time to put any bottoms on, though neither seemed to find the ludicrousness of her request due to what they had just got done doing less than fifteen minutes ago. Draco himself, however, had run across the street shirtless in his rush.

With a moaning whine he turned around and back again, giving up attempts to talk her out of an idea with which she was obviously very pleased and set upon, and rightly so as she was already in the water sinking down up to her chin. Positioning her shoulders in front of jets she said, "I can't relax with you standing out there all awkward."

Draco just sighed and, realizing that he too had some pretty sore loins, slipped off his jeans and hopped into his own built-in groove designed for lounging.

The hot, hot water did feel very nice. And the jets were very helpful. He felt the effects of the whiskey he had been sipping on all day for the first time, not too mention general fatigue. He had to be careful or he'd fall asleep.

He looked over at Hermione. She was trying to relax, taking deep breathes, but she kept slipping a little, each time shuddering with pain as her shoulder blades shifted. This frustrated him to witness, it kept that stupid guilty feeling lingering around.

He lifted his hands out of the water to rub the drunkenness out of his eyes. Hoping he had sobered his vision he looked back at Hermione, but she was transfixed on his arm. Self-consciously he dunked his left forearm back underneath the foamy bubbles.

"Lupin reckons he can remove those," she said matter-of-factly.

Draco smirked, "Remove the Dark Mark?" he questioned with a scoff. What a feeble joke.

But Hermione's face remained serious.

"Nothing removes the Dark Mark," Draco asserted in a tone that clearly showed he was not amused. But Hermione said nothing, she just slipped down a little bit again, grimacing as she caught herself. She struggled to position herself in front of the jets again.

"Come over here," he directed, "the seats are deeper.

Again Hermione said nothing but took his advice and sat in the groove next to him.

"Where does it hurt?" he questioned.

"Right here," she gestured, "No matter which way I swing my arm or try to lift it."

"That's your rotary cuff," Draco explained as he reached behind her, "It's a bad thing to injure," he added as he tried to knead her shoulder joints with his thumbs.

Hermione's neck seemed to go limp with relief from the back rub but she gave a sneering laugh, "Is it?" she said sarcastically, "Well gee, maybe I should've thought of that before I so foolishly granted you permission to climb all over me and practically dislocate my wrists, not to mention my shoulders!" Draco stopped moving his thumbs but hung stiff onto her shoulders as she continued animatedly, "Silly me, inviting myself into these situations… but wait, oh yes, that's right,_ I didn't._"

Draco stumbled over his words at first, taken aback by her accusing tone. Granted he had known he was forcing it on her and he had been okay with it at the time… But would he still continue to be now that it was all said and done…

"Well it's not like I knew I tied you so tight!" he finally rebutted, taking his hands away, "Your wrists have gone down already anyway, and, and…didn't hear any problems at the time," he jeered, implying snidely to her screaming orgasm, "Why didn't you just say something if it was going to hurt you?"

"What? You mean like "Untie me"? Yes, I'm sure that would've worked marvelously!"

Again Draco just about sputtered, "What…? You mean to say…" he looked at her with confusion, "that earlier, you really fancied a shag?"

"No!" cried Hermione, almost too firmly, shaking her head, "No, not at all… It's just that… that you were… you were _rubbing_ yourself on me."

After carefully deliberating Draco broke into a smug smirk, feeling delightfully vindicated, "So you wanted to get your little muggle hands on a real magic wand did you?"

Hermione gave a scoff of a laugh and rolled her eyes at the ridiculous line, "You _are_ drunk," she concluded in a huff.

But Draco did not stop looking at her in self-satisfied fashion. She just stared right back defiantly, obviously trying to hide her anger yet still blushing brightly with embarrassment.

Despite Draco's gloating, they both must have been visualizing that scenario in their minds, as the air became palpable with aroused tension.

Somehow, Draco knew to expect it just a second before it happened. As Hermione made to get up he helped her over, straddling him in his built-in seat. The blood must have returned to her hands, because Hermione could move her fingers again as she ran them through Draco's blonde locks, kissing him sensually. Draco welcomed any of her movements openly, savagely kissing her back.

"Get this off of me," she demanded hastily, referring to her wet tank top.

Draco, guessing it must still be difficult to lift her arms up over her head, kindly ripped it down the middle. Hermione just smiled as he slipped it off over her shoulders, "Now your boxers," she said, resting her forearms on his shoulders where the must have been most comfortable to her.

Draco obeyed without question, looking at her like Christmas had come so unbelievingly early. She ignored his eager eyes and returned to kissing his mouth.

Hermione's shoulders either felt better, or she didn't care about any discomfort just then, because she wrapped her arms around his neck. Draco, following her lead, strongly embraced her.

Their chests were pressed together and Draco shivered from the touch of so much of her skin against his. She moved down to kiss his neck, then as much of his chest that she could before she met the level of the water. She returned to his face, took his hands and placed them on her breasts as she rose up a bit to reposition herself over his jutting member. She was stroking her fingertips up and down his pectorals, making his entire body shake and quiver. Then she sat down onto him, filling herself with his cock.

The shock was so amazing that he was momentarily paralyzed. Her, the hot bubbly water… he was woozy. But she had already started lifting herself up a bit, only to slide back down on him, moaning softly to herself.

He was relieved he needn't do much. She was busy doing what was necessary to please herself.

He was still very much sore and tired from exerting himself earlier and now, what with his last bender having had enough time to sink into his blood stream, he was very tipsy and would likely be a very sloppy lay if left to his own devices. He didn't mind at all Hermione taking charge, only having to sit back and enjoy. And he did so immensely as he watched her stunning form rock up and down against him over and over again, moaning and humming.

All he really had to do was focus on not blowing off before she did; something that wasn't ever really a problem for him, yet on this occasion proving to be a tad worrisome. She was rolling her hips against his in a most erotic way, taking her own initiative to maneuver him inside her to press on just the right spots. Her murmurs were murder, and the expression on her face enough to make any hot blooded male loose it. Her enthusiasm while riding him felt beyond good. The fact that she received so much pleasure from him and his essential body parts was dangerous in the hands of someone with his ego.

But there was a bit of hope for him, her face was bright red again and she was already starting to shiver. For a brief moment Draco feared she was going to slow herself down, prolonging the inevitable. Giving her breasts that he had been roughly massaging one last squeeze he clamped his hands onto her waist instead and started guiding her speed.

This time it was him who threw his head back, eyes screwed closed tightly. They were both moaning and crying out with pleasure. Droplets of water splashed up occasionally, and the area was filled with sound of their bodies slapping together. When she was sitting on him fully her weight felt amazing resting on his pelvis and caused him to groan deeply. But and when she slid up to his tip, tightening around his highly sensitive head, he would whimper like a sleeping puppy, electricity shooting through his rest of his body. His chest, face, fingertips, all tingled.

He had to guide her up and down faster now, knowing she had set herself up to be rammed at exactly the right angle.

And sure enough she was soon choking his dick again tightly as she shook violently on top of him screaming out "Oh yes!" as she climaxed. He came into her forcefully just shortly after, roaring loudly. He was thankful, relieved and utterly happy.

Hermione went limp on him as all her muscles relaxed. He felt her rise and fall on his shoulder as she strained for air and her hair was tickling his chest and arms. He wanted to play with it, to stroke her softly as she laid on him, but he hesitated.

He couldn't be sure why, but he was sure he had sensed a slight change in Hermione. Something about her body language…

After one last attempt to catch her breath she pushed herself up, keeping her face turned away from his. She returned to where she had been sitting. Draco watched her with strange curiosity. She was trying to tuck her now wild curls behind her ears as if nothing had just happened at all. He couldn't explain what was so awkward about it, but suddenly she seemed so distant. As if she disliked him.

But what was so sudden about that? He was most familiar with her pretending whatever seat he was in at school was empty, ignoring anything he did or said most adamantly. Her determination to act as though he wasn't sitting right next to her in the hot tub was a return to normalcy. Except whom was she just making love to then if he was invisible?


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Have an opinion about my story? Well then please share it with me! 

… … …

Draco groaned as he rolled over in his bed. His stomach felt wretched and he was certain a vice was clamped around his skull. He had drunk too much whiskey, even for him. He was grateful for his soft pillow, his cool sheets, being able to cling to the girl next to him for companionship…

With a jolt from that thought he lifted his head groggily. The memory of the previous hours came flooding back. Not quite sure how, they seemed to have made it back to the flat okay.

He looked about the room, seeing his jeans crumpled up next his wet boxers on the floor by the door. Hermione lay next to him sleeping soundly. The robe he had hurriedly given her was left hanging open, a thin sheet barely covering her. From the faint peppermint smell in the air he assumed they had at least managed to follow through with the IcyHot, which was impressive even if they had resorted to streaking across the street to get home.

He then tried to locate his clock, which wasn't in its usual location. Perhaps it was knocked to the floor off his nightstand when he… "_When I screwed her so hard that the room shook and her arms almost broke_…" he realized.

"Its fine," Draco told himself, "Its fine. It's just Granger. I was drunk. I didn't really force her… not really." He was shaking his head slightly, not sure how he felt, what to settle on.

He couldn't deny how much he enjoyed having sex with her. Or for that matter how nice it was to just not be alone in the bloody flat, no matter whose company it was.

"She started it," he thought again more confidently. "And she loved it," he added boastfully, "She wanted seconds."

And then he remembered. The change he had felt in her right after. How she slunk down in her seat, refusing to make eye contact with him. She was definitely ashamed of something. He was sure it was him. …Fraternizing with him, fucking him. If any of her people found out… what would they think?

Draco felt fiery, recalling his determination to rise back to the status he once had commanded. He would not be a joke. He would retaliate against anyone who dared questioned his superiority; prove to everyone he could do whatever he damned well pleased.

Yes, everything was _fine_. Sure it was a little controversial, but who cared? It was muggle-born Granger. Just a toy Snape had brought him to play with; a little doll to act out fantastic games; searching for her secrets, volunteering her for bank robberies, demanding her sex. So what if some would consider it rape? Who would know? She'd be dead in…

Draco never felt a rush of nausea come so quickly. He leaned over the side of his bed and vomited violently.

He didn't need a clock, not anymore. When he rolled back onto his bed he could tell from the light coming in from the dirty window. It was dawn. In exactly one day's time Hermione would be returning from Gringotts. Draco would be expected to perform _Avada Kedavra_.

And of course it would be that exact moment that he could hear her start to stir. He scrambled for his wand somewhere in the sheets and quickly cleaned up his puke.

"_Scourgify_," he whispered.

"What?" asked Hermione.

"Nothing," he snarled, raking his damp hair back with his fingers. And for the second time he caught her staring at his mark with that same blank expression as before.

That was it. He exited the bed so angrily the sheets were whipped into Hermione's face. With no sign of humility he jaunted across his room with no clothing and into the bathroom.

"Let her look," he thought cockily, his self-image evidently still intact despite whatever else the Dark Lord's return had demolished.

But even as he adjusted the temperature of his shower water, repeating thoughts of "of course the mudblood lusts for _me_," or "she should be honored to have such a tryst with a pureblood!" he didn't feel any better.

All he could think about was exactly how long it would be before nightfall, and the arrival of Snape and the other Death Eaters to come take her away; to use her up and cast her back down; to betray their agreement and send her back to him—to send her to die.

Draco put his face directly under the faucet flow, hoping the streaming water would miraculously wash away these pestering and sickening thoughts. Much to his dismay, he only felt he would vomit again.

"Just really hung over," he lied internally, rubbing his face. He grabbed a bar of soap.

"She did it to herself," he thought bitterly, trying to wash as though it would actually take his mind off things, "She should've stayed away from all of this…"

He turned the water off and stood there for a moment, his forehead pressed against the tile wall. He wanted a quick fix. Something reliable, something that made the time pass by without thinking much.

And very similar to the previous endless nights spent alone in the apartment, Draco plugged up the grimy sink to brew some more Draught of Peace.

He sprinkled in some powdered Moonstone with vague déjà vu of doing the exact same thing when he couldn't sleep because of his father's impending release. He had been so on edge during the early stages, so anxious for news; so lonely and bitter and restless. The dirty walls were closing in on him. Days would go by before he'd have any contact with another human being. If Death Eaters even counted as human beings… And barking orders or five second check-ins could hardly be called _contact_.

He came to rely on Draught of Peace. It stopped him from going stir crazy. Worries just seemed to drift away in a foggy haze.

After reflecting on this bitter memory, he sprinkled in a little more Moonstone.

"Getting a bit tolerant," he thought, making excuses for his urge to escape completely as he stirred it clockwise with his toothbrush and threw in a dash of the next ingredient.

He ignored the fact that his hands were shaking as it grew nearer and nearer to being ready. But he was impatient to drink of it, the thought of having to perform murder felt like a cold dead hand around his throat, choking him ever so slowly. Sipping down his newest favorite potion would surely wave goodbye to all that.

_"Malfoy!" _shrieked a terrified voice from beyond the door.

Startled, Draco dropped his toothbrush. He dashed into fresh boxers and headed for the sound of her scream.

She was over at his desk, but it looked as though she had slipped out of his chair, and was now on her knees. Her hand was over her mouth and her eyes were wide in horror.

"What?" Draco demanded.

Then he saw a gilded handheld mirror in her other hand, sparkling with ensign of the Daily Prophet along the edges. His _FlashReflector_.

"Put that down!" he shouted, "You have _no idea _what my mother went through smuggling that to me."

Since Draco wasn't allowed a normal subscription to the Daily Prophet because the Owl would attract too much attention, his magical mirror that displayed the latest breaking news right from the Daily Prophet's main printing press was more than just a useful and sanity saving outlet, it was a sentimental symbol of his mother's care.

He wrestled it out of her grip and looked into it. It did have a new newsflash. Big, black and bold letters spelled out a grisly headline.

"**_Bombing in Hogsmeade: Joke Shop Destroyed_**."

Draco's stomach lurched with foreboding. He was pretty certain he could guess what had upset Hermione, but he read on anyway.

"An immense explosion took place early this morning inside of Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes, a novelty joke shop in Hogsmeade's historic shopping district. While the shop was not yet open for business, witnesses claim the shop owners, Fred and George Weasley were inside, along with speculations of possible others, most likely fellow family members Ronald and Ginerva Weasley, who Hogsmeade Station can confirm as arriving by train the previous night. Magical Law Enforcement Squad arrived on scene shortly after several Aurors. Officials explain the presence of Aurors is necessary because of the possibility—due to the entire Weasley Family's long standing association with Harry Potter and the late Albus Dumbledore—that the bombing may be related to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. No confirmation yet of the four allegedly inside, as search and rescue is still underway. _FlashReflector_ subscribers should stayed tuned for updates, or paper editions will shortly be made available for purchase at your local…"

But Draco stopped reading the article in the glass. He looked down at Hermione, who was shaking and trying to hold back tears.

"Moody never mentioned a possible attack there," she choked.

Moved to act, Draco wanted to tell Hermione that he hadn't ever heard of any attack plans on the joke shop, to comfort her or hold her over until they heard more…

"Hermione," he began softly. But he was cut off. She interrupted him.

"Monsters," she whispered most hatefully, shaking her head. Then she looked up at him, "_All of you_."

Draco felt a stinging slice deeper then Sectumsempra. She included _him_ in that statement.

Her disapproval of him, her rejection, became sparkling clear. His insides froze. He had never felt anything like it before. It hurt.

Urges to plead to her, to explain; to convince her he was different from them, all rushed through him. He would've fallen to his knees and done it too, if his pride didn't revolt at the very idea of pleading to anyone, no matter the circumstances.

His icy eyes flickered with stormy anger. How_ dare_ she—the compassion he had for her and her missing friends was pushed away. No one spoke to him like that. No one hurt him and got away with it.

If she was going to think he was a monster, it was going to be because he made her certain of it himself.

She had made him feel one way; he would make her feel one way too. He had succeeded in manipulating her to scream out in pleasure. Perhaps it was time to try pain.

"What did you expect?" he lied viciously, "They had it coming."

Hermione gasped in horror at his merciless confirmation, "Are they dead?"

Draco shrugged, "Maybe…" he answered maliciously, "Doesn't matter really, dead or captured."

Hermione rose to her feet; he watched horror, pain, anger, panic—everything that was terrible—ache on her face. He was winning his latest game. She submitted once again to what he directed. He expected immense satisfaction to come. It didn't.

"I've got to reach McGonagall!" she uttered frantically, "I've got to see if they had any warning-"

Draco just laughed, continuing the charade with empty hope of enjoying the sport, "Yes," he joked harshly, "My floo powder is over there, please help yourself. Then you can walk out the front door, right? Just like you said you were going to."

Hermione looked mortally wounded. She said nothing, but tried in vain to hold her quivering lips still, "Draco," she cried out desperately, "Please…" was her small ambiguous plea.

He played with her till she cried out his name in pain. He should be happy. He wasn't.

"Please what?" he spat, "This is what it is Granger." He turned away and went back to the bathroom.

He walked more hurriedly than he wanted her to see, but he was frantic to get into the bathroom and out of her sight. He could hear her start to sob uncontrollably as he slammed the door.

Never before had he done anything so cruel and heartless. He was shaking with the most terrible feeling. He couldn't believe the contrast between the euphoric joy he felt just hours ago and the complete misery he felt now. His eyes fell on the sink where he had been brewing crudely.

Recklessly he grabbed for a cup and filled it repeatedly, drinking down cup after cup.

Finally he forced himself to stop somewhere after five. He knew in some extreme cases too much could make it impossible to wake up, especially if your Moonstone fermented. But Draco always kept his ingredients dry, and knew better than to drink a sixth cup. If he could just muster some patience, then these horrible feelings would be gone…

But the haunting vision of the ugly pain strewn about her beautiful face was burned into his eyes. Nothing could rid his memory of the suffering he saw coursing through someone so lovely and good. Someone who never wanted to hurt anyone was hurting so inexplicably herself.

And for the second time in his life, Draco felt that terrible sensation rising within him. His eyes were scorching hot, his throat felt like sandpaper and his lungs like frozen ice blocks. Something invisible was pushing down on him. He couldn't swallow, he couldn't breathe. He was fighting desperately not to blink, but the searing liquid forming between his lids was burning him.

Finally he gave in, and hot tears rolled down his cheeks as he turned up his face in disgust with himself.

…_Crying in a bathroom again_.

More tears came as his shoulders seized up and down in silent sobs. He kept attempting to gulp them down, but it felt like swallowing large stones. He was so furious at his display of weakness his nails were cutting into his palms his fists were balled so tight.

He didn't _want _to kill anyone.

Whatever she was, she didn't deserve this.

But what could he do—just not do it? Choke again? Let Snape step in at the last moment once more and do it for him?

What bloody good was that? She'd still end up dead, just like Dumbledore. And then _he'd_ be dead too. Nothing Snape could come up with would spare him this time. Two dead was worse than one, especially if one was him.

And he'd be the _only one _dead if he let her go. Scheming ways to set up a convincing scene- making the living room look like she dueled him, held a wand to his head, forcing him to undo the binding charm and open the door for her -was pointless. Even though they knew how clever she was, his punishment for losing to her, for letting her get away, would still be death.

He slid down his cabinet and sat on the cold tile floor, crying harder. It was impossible. There was nothing he could do. But the tears came harder and flowed more freely still when he couldn't help but think how sick and unfair it was.

They promised her they would let her go. The plan he came up with and they abused. She was going to help them and they were going to take her life away. And her people… they would know she had been tricked. That she actually _helped_ them for no reason. She would be a fool in her death, and that's how she would be remembered.

No one would know how strongly she had dueled Wizards twice her age and size. How bravely she held her ground against him as he held her captive, demanding breakfast and jacuzzi soaks…

Draco smiled sadly through his tears.

From outside the door he could hear clattering and rummaging, but he just did not care.

He couldn't get past it. Something was lodged in his heart and he wanted it pulled out. But he knew there was no way, how could anything make it better? Either way, one of them was going to die. He couldn't save her…

And then he realized… He couldn't save her, but he could spare her from some things; the worst things.

He could spare her the vain attempt to free herself. He could spare her the disrespect of an audience. He could spare her a painful death.

He could go out to her now, tell her everything.

Tell her he was sorry and he was going to make it as right as he possibly could. That he would kill her.

Kill her before they could use her and throw her away.

He knew she was sensible and brave. If he was honest with her, she would appreciate it for what it was worth. She would understand that if it was going to happen, this was the most logical, most respectable way. She could die without giving her enemies anything. She couldn't hope for anything better.

With a new determination Draco mustered up his courage and went to push himself up off the floor, but exclaimed in surprise when his arms turned to rubber and his head felt flooded with water, his butt slamming back down on the tiles. Suddenly he was struggling to even hold his head up; his vision was blurry and the room spinning. He was so tired. Once more he tried to get up again, but proved to be even weaker.

He felt weighed down by anchors. Domineering fatigue was spreading throughout his limbs rapidly.

Groggily, he thought of his potion, but he was far too skilled in the subject to make it too strong. There was no other explanation he could think of, except for the absurd notion that his potion ingredients had been tampered with.

As he heard more clattering sounds, coming this time from his bedroom, Draco's eyes closed and he fell over onto the floor, fast asleep.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: Since Death Hallows is out in about… hmm, 2 hours, I highly doubt anyone will be interested in reading this over that. Including myself.

That being said: To carefully word this as I don't want to do any HBP spoilers (seriously though, like anyone reading this hasn't read every book in the series at least 50 times) I do want you to take notice of the time stamp, since this chapter includes my personal prediction of the true allegiance of a _certain character _PRIOR to the release of book 7. I can't believe some of my friends still don't fully agree with me, even after hours of debate, so this will be the official record of my awesome I-told-you-so-ness.

I'd also like to thank anyone who was kind enough to read this, always makes the effort worth it.

And to those who so generously reviewed, I really truly do appreciate knowing how the story is perceived.

Thanks a million to Dagers87 and AncoraImparo from the always interesting DMF, who lit a fire under my ass to write again with this awesome challenge and for keeping me perverted.

And thank you to my wonderful beta, Azalea Alatus, who understands the use of dashes far better than I ever could and goes the extra mile just because she's that nice.

… … …

"Draco," a feminine voice whispered softly. He felt sharp jabs on his shoulder, "It's time to wake up," she went on.

Draco murmured, pushing the poking fingers away.

"Wake up!" she yelled in his ear.

He popped up with sleepy eyes. Hermione was kneeling next to him.

"Hey," she said awkwardly.

Draco said nothing. His fatigue was washing away quickly.

"The Weasley's are okay," she added brightly, "I flooed McGonagall. Fred did it on accident, but he's fine. The others weren't even in the building…"

Irritated confusion etched across his face as he pushed himself up. She had been in his floo powder? Who the hell did she think she was?

But Draco's outrage was subdued by an unseeingly troublesome question.

"So when exactly is this bank break in?" she asked innocently while rising with him, her hands locked behind her back.

With sudden severity Draco recalled with a perfect recollection all the unfortunate conclusions he had come to. He looked pressingly up at the small bathroom window, wondering just how long he had been out.

His stomach lurched at the sight of the golden dusty light shining through. It was now sunset. He had spent the whole day on his bathroom floor.

How he had fallen asleep he didn't really care about at the moment; not with her pressing question asked so naively; not with so much time already lost. Yet for a brief moment he wished he could collapse again and sleep through all of what would unavoidably be coming next, but he knew—knew that with the whole day wasted away, Death Eaters due to arrive any moment and Hermione looking at him expectantly—that if it had ever been the time, now was the time to step up and be a decent man.

Despite his mouth suddenly turning bone-dry, Draco tried to initiate the news he'd be breaking to Hermione, "They're not letting you go," he said bluntly, tightening his whole body to keep it from shaking, "I've been ordered to kill you when they bring you back."

But Hermione's expression remained just as unperturbed and expectant, "Yes," she acknowledged calmly, "but what time did they say they were coming?"

Draco blinked forcefully a few times. Was he perhaps still sleeping? Did he not speak correctly?

"Did you not hear what I just said?" he inquired impatiently.

"Yes, she answered, "But I really need to know how much time we have—"

"Hermione, you are not going to be let go," he said loudly, enunciating each word, "you're going to**_ die_**," he went on, a waver in his voice slightly detectable now.

"Please Malfoy," said Hermione, probably sensing his mounting distress, "take it easy. We both know you're not going to kill anybody."

Draco's throat plummeted even further into his stomach. He couldn't imagine anything worse; yet she was still going to make it all the more difficult. He could feel his heart cracking down the middle.

"Granger, this is _no time_ for your smart mouth," he finally managed to say, determined to shut out any sign of _actual_ concern as he spoke, "I'm really trying to give you a little dignity here. If it happens their way all your little friends will know you went out like a fool, helping us out."

"So you're going to kill me right now?" Hermione asked with strange coolness, predicting his next words, "Stage a fight to the death or something?—and what about you? When they arrive it will be hard for me to help them with Gringotts if I'm dead; won't they be furious?"

Draco hadn't thought of that. Just like every other half formed idea he managed, there was no good ending.

"Maybe I'll leave," he thought out loud in a half-whisper, "Maybe I'll run away," he added with more vigor, self-encouragement rising from the realization that his Father could care less about him already, something that would only grow worse once the Dark Lord didn't get into Gringotts, "Make my own way…" he drifted off, imaging a life were he truly had no one.

Hermione's expression switched from condescending to oddly warm, "I wish you could Malfoy," she said softly, "but if it really were that easy you would've done it ages ago. You know he can find you anywhere with that thing," she nodded towards his left forearm.

Draco drew his wrist into his stomach, shielding the hideous snake with his other hand. All her numerous ways of pointing out flaws in his desperate schemes…

"That's why we need to get to Lupin as fast as we can," she said matter-of-factly, "Snape can create a diversion, buy us some time to get it removed…"

Draco stopped staring at his clutched tattoo, and looked into her serious and earnest face with a furrowed brow. What does she think she's saying?

"Snape?" he asked in agitation, "Why would Snape allow me…?"

"Draco," said Hermione hastily with a desperate look in her delicate brown eyes, "I need you to listen to me very carefully, we're running out of time. Snape is not a Death Eater. He's a member of the Order of the Phoenix."

She had exceeded, for a small moment, in tying his insides up in knots, only to be overcome with surprise and pity for her. "Are you completely mental? Snape betrayed your Order," he said guiltily, bewildered she could be so delusional.

"No, he didn't," Hermione insisted.

"Hermione, he _killed_ Dumbledore," Draco said, growing angrier by the second. It was horribly ridiculous; on top of everything else he did not need to feel like he was telling a little child there was no such thing as Santa Claus.

But Hermione was shaking her head, taking one hand out from behind her back and placing it over her own heart, "No Draco, he _obeyed_ Dumbledore," she urged. "You're not the only one he made an unbreakable vow to. Before Dumbledore died, he made sure to leave his pensive, along with the memory of the plan, and Snape promising to go through with it, to Harry.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Draco spat, growing mad with anxiety as they continued putting off what was_ really_ important. Who knew when the Death Eaters would be there.

But Hermione continued with strong conviction, "Dumbledore sacrificed himself. The whole thing was an elaborate charade."

"No, no that can't be…" stuttered Draco, "I was going to kill him, he couldn't have known that it was going to work out the way it did."

"Apparently, he did," she said with a hint of the same surprise Draco was feeling just then in her tone, "He had a very different take on who you really were; and so do I."

The air in Draco's lungs suddenly felt very wet and heavy. She couldn't _possibly_ know what she was talking about… Yet she was looking at him most sincerely.

"With a father like Lucius and an aunt like Bellatrix…" she said quietly, as if telling a tale so sad she couldn't look at her listener, "It's not your fault the rubbish you were taught. How could you have known any better as a child? And I watched you. I watched you struggle all year. You didn't want to do any of it. It was _destroying_ you," she went on emphatically, "I knew where you were going in the Room of Requirement long before Harry figured it out, and Myrtle told me about you in the bathroom crying long before Harry found you…"

Draco tensed, ready to deny such a humiliating accusation, but Hermione's pleading expression steadied him as she pressed on, determined to speak, "But I never said anything, even when he asked me about it. I didn't help him at all, even though I suspected something terrible must be going on. I wanted you to have time to decide to go to Dumbledore…" she was talking fast now, it was obvious recalling these events were very painful for her, "But it didn't work out that way. You were too damn clever, you actually figured out how to fix that damn cabinet. You got caught up in the excitement. You were in way over your head. But Dumbledore knew you wouldn't _actually_ do it. That's why Snape had to be right on your tail all the time. To step up and do it when you would choose not to."

Draco didn't notice exactly when it was that his whole body changed. He could melt into the floor, he felt so heavy and sad. Everything she said to him… It was so heartbreakingly wonderful to be _understood_. His lower jaw hung idly, he was so stunned someone knew what was happening to him, that he hadn't been alone during that god awful year, not really.

"But why would Dumbledore let anyone kill him at all?" Draco finally thought to ask through his dumfounding shock.

Hermione looked away for a moment, her eyes glassing over with tears from thinking about it. "To motivate Harry," she finally choked out, "To give him that one last reason to finish this once and for all."

Draco didn't think he could handle anymore of this strange and outrageous information.

"You have to understand," Hermione said, clearing her voice and continuing firmly, "in the end he truly does have to go it alone. But that _doesn't_ mean the Order can't help him in the meantime. Because of Dumbledore's plan, Voldemort confides _everything_ in Snape, he is his most loyal as _he_ is the one who rid him of Dumbledore. He has made him Secret Keeper of all the Horcrux locations.

"And because of the passion Harry has found in himself to finally rid the world of that Monster; his magic is stronger than ever. And he has taught us that same new magic… Magic more powerful than anything you've ever seen," she added, staring intently into Draco's eyes.

Draco furrowed his brow. She spoke of it with such reverence, as if she truly knew that this "new magic" was what was going to save them all…

"It's right here, "she whispered, tracing her fingertip lightly down his forehead with the hand she had been resting on her chest, "in your mind."

She had drawn a lighting bolt.

"And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal," Draco whispered in complete awe, pieces of a gruesome puzzle starting to fall eerily into place, "But he will have power the Dark Lord knows not."

"Muggle doctors believe that's the area of the brain in charge of emotion," she said with a small smile, "It's where you love. And we can do amazing things when we concentrate with it."

Draco was deathly still. Could he really believe all this?

"I wasn't lying when I said Lupin can remove the Dark Mark," Hermione told him gently, "And I can get into your hideouts, I could probably even penetrate through Goblin enchantments if I really wanted. And you should've seen the Reducto jinx McGonagall used on that vanishing cabinet," she went on with a small, tired laugh, "Let's just say no one will get into Hogwarts through it ever again. And Snape?" she chimed, "He was already one of the most gifted Occulmens of all time. That's how he has been able to deceive Voldemort for so long. But now his legilimency…" She shook her head with what almost seemed like disapproval, "He can penetrate deep into you mind without you even knowing."

Draco suddenly tensed all over, too astonished to accept what he was finally figuring out, "You got caught on purpose…" he whispered. "You and Snape," he went on breathlessly, "He knew… he knew I wouldn't be able to hurt you. He knew that I wanted to…" Draco trailed off.

His cheeks, which were for the briefest moment pink with embarrassment now flashed red with anger, recalling all those times Snape stared at him in that horrible uncomfortable way. All those times… reading his mind. Occulmency lessons with his Aunt rendered completely useless. He had seen everything; every fantasy about Hermione.

Hermione's mouth turned up into a smile that was a beautiful mix of shyness and triumph as Draco expression revealed he had finally figured it out.

Snape knew she'd be the perfect candidate to send to his flat. He knew he dreamed about her every night. That it was her alone that could get under his skin.

Draco wanted to explode with rage. He had never felt so violated. Those were his most private thoughts. And Snape just took them. Took them and used them against him—and her too. She played him. Like a little toy. And he had fallen perfectly for their little _game_.

She brought him to the very brink of his sanity, rendering him emotionally incapacitated. She weakened him, forced him into a corner to fret and cry in the agony of his dilemma of killing her.

He was now certain that having to take care of her, possibly torture her, tie her to the bed, growing attached to the seductive temptation of her very presence, was all ingeniously intentional. Everything became so painfully obvious. He was distinctly aware now that Snape knew all along he would request that she be used then released, and knew that by twisting the idea he would declare war on his character and prolong her stay. And of course, how could he be so stupid! Catching her in his medicine cabinet… Hermione tampered with his potion ingredients, drugging him to sleep.

A question still itched at all his thoughts—why… for what exactly? So she could roam freely about the hideout…

Only Snape could get into his flat.

"Oh God," Draco thought in horror, his heart stopping in his chest.

She knew what was here. That's why Snape set it up for her to come. So that she could-

Hermione, finally revealing what Draco hadn't even noticed she was hiding throughout the course of their conversation, withdrew her other hand from behind her back, forcing him to realize what it was.

"Harry also taught us how to kill Voldemort's soul with a single curse," she explained.

_Hufflepuff's cup_.

The handles were melted down, the whole thing was charred in black ash. He could tell just by looking at it that it possessed an eerie stillness now. It emitted no energy. It was like a black hole. There was obviously no piece of soul contained within it.

"In a box labeled "light bulbs" in the closet?" she questioned humorously, "The old "hidden in plain sight" tactic? Couldn't believe it really… took me forever to find it. Combed the entire flat looking for traces of magical concealment. Took me all day."

But Draco's mouth just hung open in surreal shock as she spoke. She had destroyed it. It was dead.

A feeling he never felt before came crawling up him. _Hope._ Hope that the Dark Lord could actually be defeated. That it wasn't impossible. That he could be free from the creditor to whom he was so indebted. Her and her people were that much closer to meeting a mortal Voldemort. With this alleged new magic, perhaps when the "Chosen One" did meet him… perhaps he really could win…

Then suddenly panic clenched his chest, squeezing tightly and showing no sign of release.

The worst possible thing that could happen had happened.

The Dark Lord was more vulnerable than before. Draco failed to guard the Horcrux, his only job. The Death Eaters were going to kill him for this. His own Father would surely volunteer to do it himself.

"What have you done?" he finally screamed, "Why did you do that? They're going to torture me until I beg for death!

"Then come with me, Draco. Right now. To Order Headquarters," Hermione pleaded

Draco could not believe what was happening, "Are you crazy? I'm no safer with the Order than I am with Death Eaters!" he screamed while shaking.

"No!" she yelled back, "No, that's not true. You need to calm down."

"I've got to get out of here," Draco concluded manically, looking hysterically around the room, "I've got to leave now. I'm a dead man."

"Draco, please," Hermione tried to plead, "You know you can't run from them alone."

"You're right," he uttered, freezing in his place, "there's nothing I can do. No where I can go." His eyes turned foggy, and his voice was hollow, "…I should just off myself…"

"Draco!" Hermione screamed in shock, "Stop! That's ridiculous, don't talk like that."

"No, no," repeated Draco, eyes now wide and erratic, "It's not ridiculous," he insisted crazily, "You don't get it. You have no idea what it's like. It's the best way… most painless… doesn't give them the satisfaction-

Hermione, dropping the now worthless cup, advanced upon Draco, engulfing his broad shaking figure with her arms and kissed him firmly, pacifying his tremors with her soothing lips.

"There is something you can do, somewhere you can go," she whispered against his mouth. "With us, you can start helping us now."

Her attempt worked, in a way. Her intoxicating kiss, bewitching words... He did feel calmer. But he resented it.

"_Please_," he practically begged, taking her arms and pushing them off his shoulders and back down to her sides, "Just stop. Stop giving me your kisses. Stop giving me your delusions. You're just making things worse. Wake up Hermione, I can't go with you. Potter will never trust me, he'll never allow me. And it's his bloody Order."

"No it's not," she said, "its Dumbledore's! And Dumbledore was going to show you mercy. Give you a second chance. That's what he wanted, that's what he believed in. And that's what I believe in. And that's what Harry believes in too, no matter how difficult.

"You'll show him how helpful you can be," she went on insistently, "I see it in your eyes. You want him gone. He may not have done it the same way he did it to Harry, but he took away your chances of a normal happy family too."

Instantly he felt stung, and for the second time that night Draco's eyes flooded with tears. He was desperate not to let them drop. But her words, they rang through him like a massive bell, and she said them so bravely. Words he never dared admit to himself but always felt. His deepest, _darkest_ secrets.

Yes, he wanted to be a great and powerful wizard, rightfully respected and honored. He was Slytherin through and through. But he never wanted to earn that through someone like Voldemort. To have to have the protection and helping along from such a soulless snake.

He wanted to earn it himself; _without_ murdering his way to the top. He wanted to be able to walk freely among the crowds, not have people scream and run because the Dark Lord's pawn was among them. Yes he wanted people to be impressed by him, but not terrified of him.

He didn't want to be alone. He wanted people around. People who would be properly proud of him. Like friends. Or family. He wanted a family. A real one. And Voldemort took that away when he tempted his Dad. His Father made it official when he chose to give in.

And she knew all this. She knew him most deeply, most intimately. And she didn't find him sad and pathetic. She still wanted him to take her hand. She wanted him to join her.

Perhaps with her, perhaps after leaving his Father and the rest of the Death Eaters, he could finally become great on his own.

He looked deep into her brown eyes, radiating genuine honesty. Then down to her soft pink lips. Lips she had just kissed him with. So it all had been real… He was relieved. But thrown back into bitter anger at the thought of being played with like a doll.

He couldn't possibly know then just how much he would end up changing because of the simple decision he made, to tap the books to open the front door, but his pride would never falter.

"I never would've guessed you could do such a thing," he told her chidingly.

"What?" asked Hermione.

"Play with me like that," he said sharply.

Hermione smiled shyly, "I'm sorry," she said, "But you have to understand, it was the only way to get through to someone as hard headed as you."

Draco glared at her half-heartedly, "Just as long as we room next to Weasley," he said while turning the knob and pulling the door.

"Ron?" asked Hermione, "Why?"

"So he can hear you screaming my name," he finished with a smirk.

Hermione said nothing, merely glaring back at him. Then she walked right out the front door, just like she told him she would.

…End…


	10. Epilogue

A/N: I suppose I got one too many harassments (okay, okay, "inquiries") about what happens after they leave (H&R's reaction, does Snape get busted, married with babies etc. etc..), not to mention a _certain someone's _ fondness of the title and insistence that it should be used one more time, and because it seemed as though people love it when Draco says ridiculously romantic things, and, lastly, since I didn't savor DH as long as I hoped I would I spouted out this little ditty that hopefully at least hints at all of that.

I also wanted to include something from Hermione's point of view, which is fun to switch to after trying for the first time to write a guy's perspective and just so everyone can rest assured she knew exactly what she was doing and doesn't feel like a rape victim. Plus the closure of events seen through her eyes and her own surprise at what happened and who Draco really is sounded fun to write (although very predictable). Please let me know how I did switching perspectives. I'm kind of thinking of writing a postDH story with 3 characters POV simultaneously so your thoughts will be extremely helpful. Thanks for reading!!

… … …

"Harder," Hermione moaned desperately. "Harder!" she cried again.

Draco obeyed and went deeper, but still withholding something difficult for her to describe, driving her crazy the way he would revert back to his "soft and tender" style of love making.

Not that it didn't have it's place in their relationship, but she specifically told him she needed his trademark "screw me stupid" shag that makes everything else in the world disappear. Didn't he understand how crucial tomorrow was going to be for her? She needed a stress reliever! If he thought he could pretend like he never fucked her like a mindless savage animal… well he was an idiot.

But Draco was sliding up and down on top of her, eyes closed and off in dreamland as he maneuvered his member in and out of her quivering insides just as passionately as he always had, but with that new sense of gentleness he had adopted ever since she brought him to Grimmauld Place.

Hermione groaned as she pushed him up and flipped him over with an aggressive roll, pinning him down by his wrists and climbing hastily on top of him.

Draco grimaced slightly, and Hermione immediately recoiled from his left arm, forgetting that it was still healing.

She intended to apologize but Draco was already back to grinning deviously at the sight of Hermione naked and over him. She smirked at the funny turn of events, that it was now him with the injury, and then inserted herself with his stiff, swollen manhood, feeling that intensely erotic feeling of being overwhelming full of his hot, hard, flesh. She began riding him relentlessly, her hair tossed everywhere, clawing at his chest, dewy sweat glistening off her chest in the moonlight from the open window. He caressed her creamy thighs as they rubbed against him.

"God yes," Hermione thought, "Yes, just what I need," and she slammed herself onto him as deeply as she could and rolling herself against his pelvis, massaging her clit.

But soon she was incapable of thinking anything, she starting shaking uncontrollably. She opened her mouth to scream, but nothing came out except an airless gasp as she exploded with a silent, shuddering orgasm as she felt her pussy vibrate with pleasure.

Draco silently demanded she not collapse yet, as he still needed his comeuppance. Guiding her by her hips she let him hoist her up and down on him until she felt him surge even bigger inside her and then release powerfully, hot seed tickling all over.

He cried out "OH God!" and then growled a deep groan, very long and loudly.

Finally, Hermione let herself fall onto his chest and catch her breath, as she heard angry and abrupt knocks come banging from the far wall.

The inaudible muffled yelling from the next room could only be guessed as "keep it down you sodding bastard!"

Draco gave a small boyish giggle.

"It's not that funny Draco!" Hermione scolded, as she snuggled in next to him, searching for the lost sheet to pull up to her chin, "If he can hear us your Mother probably can too! And that reminds me… could you please talk to her about my parents?"

"What?" asked Draco defensively, "I think she's doing great considering."

"You can't be serious?" Hermione argued, "Anything she wants to say to them she bloody screams! "I CAN PASS THE SALT FOR YOU WITH MY WAND DEAR, NO NEED TO ASK YOUR HUSBAND TO GET UP, MAGIC YOU SEE?" she mimicked Narcissa with a fake yell. "They're muggles for god's sake, not _deaf_."

Draco glared at her momentarily but then gave up and laughed as he helped her get the wild loose curls out of her face. A lovely cool breeze swept in through the window and she smiled lovingly back at him.

"Speaking of deaf, why do you pretend you are whenever she mentions grandchildren?" he asked.

Hermione rolled her eyes, "I'm not even twenty years old!" she exasperated, "We haven't even been together that long.

"Granger," he hissed snidely, "You know damn well when this is all over I'm getting you a ring and you're sure as hell saying yes."

Hermione just sneered back at him jokingly.

"You do take Orthatriserum though, don't you?" he asked awkwardly, shuffling his own sex messed locks off his forehead.

Hermione laughed, men were always so awkward about birth control.

"Of course!" she said, "You've hardly just renounced your Death Eater brainwashing, you think I'm going to let you get me pregnant."

"Fine, fine," Draco responded, revealing that while owning her future child was very serious issue, he too was in no place to see it rushed, "You just haven't been able to keep your hands off me is all, lost count of how many times you've begged for my manliness. When did you last take it?"

"About six months ago, oh irresistible God of sex."

"Six months?!" Draco questioned worriedly, "Doesn't it only last three??"

Hermione scoffed, "If you're no good at making it," she boasted.

"Do you have any idea how awful that stuff tastes?" she insisted after Draco have her a skeptical look, "I boosted it up a bit so I wouldn't have to choke it down as often."

Draco still looked concerned.

"What?" she interrogated, "I was second in my potions class you know."

"Third," he corrected, "I was second our last year there thank you very much. Potter was first, bloody cheated though…" Despite his words, his tone gave away his full confidence in Hermione's potion making abilities and his relief in no chance of a surprise baby.

Hermione hit him playfully on the shoulder, "Well tell your Mother she can go pick out prams once you've _both_ convinced Harry so thoroughly he won't be tempted to pull out his wand when you ask him to be Godfather."

"Can't you ask him that mush?" he whined.

Hermione just giggled, and sighed as that strange euphoric feeling of happiness engulfed her. Sometimes it overwhelmed her, Draco Malfoy, infamous Slytherin and of Death Eater descent, talking about marrying her and fathering her children.

But literally freeing him from that awful mess also seemed to free his soul at the same time. Hermione gathered from their somewhat reluctant talks as of late, where by miracle she managed to help Draco feel secure enough to open up, he was quite desperate to put the past all behind him, eager to start a family of his own, determined to prove to himself he could have a proper one.

"I saved his little girlfriend from that bewitched axe in my attic didn't I?" Draco refuted after a small silence, "Surely I'm making plenty of progress."

"Though it would've been more impressive if you had told Ginny what was in that drawer _before_ she opened it, one would think," said Hermione sternly, turning away from him as punishment and fluffing her pillow down with a huff.

Draco immediately scooted closer in response, spooning her tightly, but unable to contain the fact that the memory still entertained him as he chuckled mirthfully, "It was funny though," he said between laughs, "Her shrieking like that then running away, orange blaze of hair bobbing up and down though all the boxes of my Dad's old crap."

"Enough," she said, hoping he could not sense her smiling at the humorous image, "Just thinking about that horrible Horcrux hidden in your _own house _is creepy enough to give me nightmares."

"Oh c'mon," chided Draco, "It's gone now isn't it? We killed it, only two left. I thought Gryffindors were supposed to be brave?'

"Shut up and let me sleep," murmured Hermione, unperturbed by their usual pillow talk quarrels.

"Ready for tomorrow?" he asked, the teasing now gone from his voice, reverting back to the tone of nervous protectiveness that seemed to come out only late at night, when the two were alone in bed.

"Yes Honey," she answered back softly, "We went over it a million times."

"Still though, one can't truly plan for Voldemort showing up the same time you do," Draco spouted quickly.

Hermione rolled back over to face him, pressed body to body, "That's why you know we can't put it off any longer. He's bound to go after the Minister sooner rather than later, we've got to get there first, teach him the magic…"

"If Voldemort wants to kill him he'll kill him," argued Draco.

"Yes but Lupin and McGonagall reckon he doesn't really want to take over as Minister, he just wants control of the Minister... All the better to slow down Harry from finding that last Horcrux if he has Ministry officials working for him as well as Death Eaters. We've got to show Scrimgeour how to resist the Imperius and Cruciatus curses! We must!"

"Careful woman," Draco whispered with a smile, "I'll fancy another go if you keep on with the noble speeches. You know what they do to me," he said, growling and fake biting her neck.

Her shoulders scrunched up in reflex and she giggled as his breathe and teeth tickled. "Stop!" she ordered through uncontrollable squeals, pushing and beating playfully on his chest.

He finally stopped and let out a long deep sigh. Hermione wondered if he was now realizing how tired he was, much like herself, after a long day of planning and practice with the Order, finally able to have a late night romp upon reuniting in their shared bedroom and now their pathetically adorable midnight teasings, the giddiness of new love surprisingly draining

Hermione could tell Draco was still worried though, as his sparkling moonlit eyes gazed longingly back into hers. He hated missions away from her.

"I'll be fine," she insisted, retorting his unspoken concerns. "It's you I'm worried about! Who knows if Greyback will be alone, and I know the full moon is almost-"

"Oh Please," Draco interrupted, "His going to fall right into Snape's trap. …and we all know how good Snape is at laying traps," he added snidely on the side, "Dirty werewolf bastard has it coming, not going to know what hit him" he said confidently, "Besides, I have to come back, who's going to take care of you if I don't?"

Hermione narrowed her eyes in slick offense, but her heart fluttered with joy at Draco's true reason for wanting to make it back alive, "I can take care of myself you know!" she insisted, playfully donning aloof determinedness.

"No you can't!" Draco pleaded, insisted even, his eyes wide, "You need me!"

"Oh yeah?" asked Hermione skeptically.

"Yes," said Draco firmly, pulling her into him and locking his arms tightly around her, "To hold you," he explained simply in a silly sing-song voice, "And rock you," he added whilst doing so, "and love you and kiss you," then he planted a long warm kiss on her forehead.

Hermione giggled quietly again, "What am I?" she asked sleepily, burrowing her face into his bare chest, strong and safe, "A doll?"

"Yes," answered Draco strongly, back to his usual voice, though articulating a genuine softness only Hermione was allowed to hear, "You're my doll."

Then, intertwined closely in the sheets, their eyes closed comfortably and both drifted off to a wonderful rest; small, smug smiles on their faces.


End file.
